at my first memory— laid on a bed bottle in mouth I drift to sleep. I wake up to dampness pressed against my cheek. My milk has spilled and anger fills my little chest; I call to my Other who bends over me a full moon in a dark sky. I make my commands: precise, clear and neat. She nods in obedience as she picks me up and wraps me in her self.

What would I do without the people around me? I could not survive alone in the wild. Not many would, and that is what makes us— the willingness of the strong to hold up the weak; the desire to tend to the sick, and for the Voiceless, to Speak. I am not lost. I am loved. I am loved. I am not a burden. I am not a burden. I am Human: a being who can take without giving. For as one hand holds me up here, There, I birth a child or wipe a tear. See, life is not a transac

Thank you, Love He takes care of the dishes and laundry, pays the bills and vacuums the floor; and while I'm still working, grabs the kids when he's done, and takes them to the grocery store. He does yard work with the kids on the weekends, or takes them out to the park — he takes care of all things I cannot do, because my body likes quiet and dark. I participate in our morning routine when I'm able: two kids, two adults, it's fair. I also own bath-time and bedtime, of course

I have love to give. It tumbles out of me in bright globules, ready to burst. I have love to give and I give it. I have love to give...