Treasure

 I stay in touch with people. My close friends are women I have known since I was nine years old . So the fact that I message back and forth with a colleague from fifteen years ago isn’t all that strange. But what is strange is when she was cleaning out her desk and found THE manuscript. The manuscript I flew home to write with my mom when an agent replied to me asking for the first twenty pages. The only manuscript my mom and I wrote together. She is sending it to me and I cannot wait to get my hands on it. To hear my moms voice in it. To see if my writing has changed at all. 

I am pregnant again. With a baby girl. We are over the moon. But my mom is dying. It’s happening faster and faster. I haven’t written because it’s all a little much. Life and death all rolled up into one. 


That manuscript being found right when it did feels like more than a coincidence to me. I am so grateful that I have been given this little treasure. This moment in time with my mom. It reminds me that I am not alone in this.

My Episcopalian heart knows that in all this suffering something beautiful will bloom. A piece of my mom will go on. 

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