If a Mother Falls to Her Knees, Does She Even Make a Sound?

Some days, like today, I wish I could just step out of it all just for a moment, long enough to catch the breath I lost somewhere between becoming Woman and becoming Mother. Some days, to be Mother is to press flat against the packed mud I left indented in my rock bottom. Some days, … Continue reading If a Mother Falls to Her Knees, Does She Even Make a Sound?

The Place Where I Belong

She calls me, breathless. "It was amazing," she panted. "I loved it. I was made for this, Ima. I need it." Patched up by the threads trailing behind her gathering into a seam sewn with every fall and knotted with each triumphant rise, my lungs fill. My hands slow their spasms. My head sweeps the … Continue reading The Place Where I Belong

The Tides we Don’t Follow

We are first man and woman. We have created ourselves from the ribs of non-believers. We have no original sin to dictate our morals, no code passed down for generations. The string we hang from frays with every step towards the edge of this puppet stage. And this step, this leap away from tradition, this will cut the cord.

On Open Houses and Choice in a Foreign Tongue

It is early in the morning. She rests her head against my shoulder, twisting her body around in an attempt to find a comfortable position. I sit as still as I can, knowing she will turn again and again until we finally get there. I’ve learned to be the rock she circles; forever keeping me … Continue reading On Open Houses and Choice in a Foreign Tongue

Mourning my Son with no Name

The flutters intensify every year as we light the last candle. Eight flames burning is the signal; the moment we start counting down the week until our baby’s birthday, three days before his death. This year, my womb contracted wildly with the news of another boy torn from his mother too early… too violently. I held my … Continue reading Mourning my Son with no Name


Oh my darling.  My beautiful little girl... I am watching you cry.  You sob as you twist and turn your little body on the kitchen floor. I can't, you say.  You said this medicine will help me...but it's not changing my feelings!  I can't anymore! I slide down beside you, leaning against the refrigerator door … Continue reading Crash.

How Are You?

How is she?  They ask, everywhere I go. Sometimes I answer. It's hard.  They're trying something new.  We still don't know. And sometimes I don't. Fine, thank god. They want to know news, they want to know progress...they want to know black and white. I confide in some. I deflect others. Mostly, I seethe. I … Continue reading How Are You?

When There Is Nothing Left To Say

There is so much I could say...so much to write about... I could write about my sister...and her cancer...and what it feels like to be so far away...to be torn between my children and the baby I held in my arms at 14 years old...whispering my secrets to one of my only family members who … Continue reading When There Is Nothing Left To Say

The Only Squeeze Hug I Can Manage

Hey Sis...this one's for you... This one's for the times we couldn't stop laughing... Inside out kisses and shoulder blades... Djoghurt and Stonehenge... And that toot guy. This one's for Friday nights... People watching in the park... And Super Hatzlacha. This one's for the times we forgot to say I love you... And the times … Continue reading The Only Squeeze Hug I Can Manage

Skin Deep

"Imma," she says in her 'I'm going to tell you something incredibly insightful now so you better stop what you're doing and focus and make sure your phone is on hand to record this' voice, so naturally, I turn. "I know you're not going to believe this, so I'm telling you now you have to … Continue reading Skin Deep