Category Archives: mothers

unlearning grace

When I was a dancer, grace was a large part of my life. Then, grace was about making your extreme physical exertion appear as if a feather was moving lightly through air. Making your effort look effortless. Your pain invisible. Part of me wishes I had never learned that form of grace, that supposed gracefulness. Part of me is grateful for what I’ve gained in the process of unlearning it.

for Kamo

Someone said to me this week “sometimes abandoning your child is the greatest act of love,” about a child named Kamo, who was neglected and then abandoned six years ago and just returned to the mother who left him, right as he nears the end of his life. It’s a notion I’ve wondered on sinceContinueContinue reading “for Kamo”

That is Something

I have witnessed suffering. I have seen horrible things. I have watched indescribable pain. I turned around; there two babies lay next to one another on the bed, silenced by pain, save for slight mewing. Their bandages were removed and I glanced twice, three times, four before I could comprehend what was missing: their tinyContinueContinue reading “That is Something”