Tomorrow, I’ll show you to a stranger. Not on purpose, of course, but we know the changing rooms at the gynecologist’s office are never private. We’ll wear a Pepto Bismol gown and Margo will stiffen because of the draft caused by observational rooms, their doors left open just a crack to see the glow of ultrasound screens.
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They gave me a card with a cat meowing Goodbye on its cover. Inside, names and short notes. We’ll miss you terribly! Good luck! Safe travels! Keep in touch! Take pictures!
I wish you were there, author of my predicament. Then you might have understood.
Fuchsia Pukash was not beloved among the humans of the neighborhood, and they were right to dislike her.
Unlike most mothers, I gave birth to my daughter Setsuko not once, but twice.
Brave and smart and idiotic and trusting and head-of-fluff girls die. All the time. In horrible ways. The world is cruel.
