Small and Simple Stories of Support
An afternoon with Dan’s best friend and a band of single guys who were largely unconcerned with the miracle of birth sounded like relief. I’d been haloed in hyper-attention for nine months and all I really wanted was to be left alone. I would savor the sanctuary of affable and carefree pals more interested in Dan than me. Being just part of the scenery would feel like a soft lullaby…
A soft, pink cardigan my mother wrapped around me has been passing like an inherited gene through our family. This tiny sweater as big as a postage stamp and as cozy as cashmere carries the love I know my mother would have liked to have given my children, and their children, like a hug. Long ago, as a baby, Laura napped soundly in this knitted blushing cloud…
