Marissa

She was not Marissa in those days. She was ‘a plant’ to keep alive.

Marissa.

She was a high-school graduation present for my son from the school after a four-year, two-and-a-half trillion dollar investment.

“Thank you for the tuition. Here is a diploma and a plant. Don’t kill it. Alumni Affairs will be reaching out Wednesday.”

There was some early engineering love for the plant that first carefree summer. My son built a …