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There’s no space where I won’t get brushed against or breathed on or worse, trapped

I didn’t know where to put the emotions, and so I put them, and those envelopes, away for another time

Secretly, the idea of baking sourdough started — whatchamacallit? — fermenting in my brain

Expecting our usual 40-second conversation, I was alarmed to hear an entire sentence: “Ma, I need help!”

“Ooh, you lucky duck, you. Wish I had the bank on my to-do list”

Letting go of that pot meant letting go of another piece of my mother