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The distance eats away at me. I feel unmoored, floating. My best friend is in pain, and I’m hiding

I wait. I wait for the birth pangs, I wait for the mourning. But both are slow in coming

I kept those words in a special place, as a sign of a prophecy that would hopefully come true

Eight thirty. It was really too late to start putting up a dough

How can one beating heart bear the pain, the hurt, the emotion, together with the nachas, the joy, the love all at once?

Through the open crack in my window, there’s a heartrending cry. “Mommyyyyyyyy!”