Who are we going to be now?

I got to hold a baby this week. One of my dearest friends--a woman who has been a stand-up auntie for my own daughters in a million tiny, creative ways--told me she was pregnant in the before times. I imagined all the ways I would repay her purple-iced cupcakes and last minute school pick-ups and delicious salads and soups. I imagined showing up as soon as she was back from the hospital and swooping the babe out of her arms when she was done nursing so she could drink a jar of water, go to the bathroom, cry on the couch. I wanted to be a soft, unconditionally loving place to land. Mothers need layers of mothers, I’ve learned. Mothers on mothers on mothers on mothers.

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