My first mothers did not have wombs. I have two original ancient mothers in this glittering world. They imparted wisdom to us when we were not yet real people. Their mythical bodies enliven the stone they rest in and watch by their grace this new generation. I carry my mother’s and grandmother’s eggs — their blood.
Read MoreAnonymous, Untitled, IVF placenta print with acrylic paint, 2024. Courtesy of the artist.
Read More“Just swallow quick and you won’t feel it squirm,” Abby says.
I wipe my palms on my jeans. No way. There is no way. Abby holds the spider by one leg and, I swear, its hairs sway with the breeze and I think about the feel of that spider in my throat.
Think about how it will stick, those spindly legs working their way back onto my tongue and then I think about the taste.
“You won’t have to bite it or anything,” Abby says.
My stomach pushes towards my tonsils. My breakfast tries to surface. I swallow it back, though I want to let it fly, dream of spewing Cheerios in Abby’s face. I smile. Accidentally. The idea of splitting that spider with my teeth, knowing it will squirt, erases that smile. I also know if I puke on Abby, I’m a goner…
Read MoreIt took me a week and a lifetime and an infinity to pick up the phone.
I told my therapist about the offer to join their family.
That they’d be willing to move to make it work.
“I think if they’re considering moving to include you,” he said, “you’re already part of the family.”
The message was clear.
Read MoreWhat does a flower feel when it blossoms? Soft? Beautiful?
After being a seed, then a sprout, how does it feel to unfurl?
Nothing like the process that it took to get there.
— Your mother, on the phone last week
In this year of facing your mortality, the same lesson etches itself deeper and deeper, again and again into your soul, everytime as if it was the first time. Death is real. That’s the lesson. Every time it scares you…
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