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320 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 24, 2025
Judge us if you want, but first you have to witness us contort and expand. First you have to watch us become. Then, when you have seen the war we wrestled just to be here, the lives we created out of the void of this place, you can decide whether you want to talk to us about how we were too young, too ravenous, too susceptible to grief.
I lived in the promise I'd made the moment I birthed them: to pull a world that was good to them from the depths of its horrors. I owed them the impossible.
Unrequited love is like believing in fairies a little too long, past the age it's acceptable. Sure, there's the eventual devastation that this thing you thought was real suddenly evaporated into nothing. But the worst part of it is the shame that you ever believed it at all.
Loving them kids was like holding my breath. At first it almost hurt but now it was simply how air moved through me, held in place while they was sleepin’ or screamin’ or slippin’ in the bath bucket.
And then there was times when they knocked the wind outta me, when a sizzling laugh or a sticky kiss or a lopsided jump could plow right through me and unleash breath, and that release was enough to sustain through the continuous tight clench. They changed the very way I sustained life, right down to the brilliant gnaw of breath.