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We’re aching for what we had, pre-coronavirus, when we didn’t know how lucky we were

Different beds, different foods, different customs. I navigated strange waters with my family as the compass

I hold the freezer door closed while I hold my breath. It stays closed

She’s almost 90, her mind fickle as the wind, but oh, she wants to learn

I got into my car and started to sob. So much more than a glass had been shattered the night I stood under the chuppah

A hammer, nails, and wood — it must be the magic recipe for silence because it’s blissfully quiet now