Mother

I have empathy for the quiet and awkward woman who carried and birthed me. It wasn’t always that way, but I understand more now. Forty weeks wasn’t enough, but it was all that we had. In losing her I learned to grieve in guilty silence the loss of something I never had. I’m an expert now. Twenty-five

Happy Birthday, Makiya!

Later, I’m sitting in a chair holding my newborn granddaughter, who has been given the name Makiya Rose, while the nurses fuss around tending to her mom. My heart is so full it aches as I hold the perfect baby girl in my arms, stroke her soft little hands, drink in the features of her

Tuesday, January 1, 2019 – Almost Sixty

“I have one sister left,” Aunt Katie said in her first letter to me. “We are the only two who have made it beyond our sixtieth birthday. My mother, father, and brother all passed away before they reached sixty. My mother was forty-seven. All had heart problems.” She doesn’t mention her other sister—my birth mom—who died