Amber McRee Turner, Author

“Let me tell you about a little something I like to call Sway.” Dad said it slow, like a teacher calling out a spelling word.
Sway?” I asked.
“S-W-A-Y,” he said.
I thought he meant like when my whole fourth-grade class once had to sway back and forth with our hands in the air while we kazooed “You’re a Grand Old Flag.”
“You mean like this?” I waved my top half left and right, nearly swaying myself onto the floor.
“No, no.” Dad leaned in close.
“Sway,” he said. “As in power . . .
As in influence.”