My sisters’ kids and I have always been close. When my husband died more than twenty years ago, I spent nearly every waking hour with them. They were my built-in company, and I became their regular tutor. My sister even paid me for it, probably because she knew homework went down easier when someone else handled the tears, but it made me feel  useful. Tutoring days were a blur of worksheets and long division. They survived. I did too, though the experience added a few highlig