Literary Mama
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I try to pass the baby to the woman, but she is focused on the coffee, mesmerized by her reflection off the diner wall and the the four other children.
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“Masks!” he sounds drunk. “Masks,” she says, seeing rack after rack of them, hanging like melted faces from bra hangers in the Hide and Eek Boo-tique.
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I open my mouth, but I can’t say it. I can’t give him that piece of my baby, of myself. A small, wet sob escapes instead.
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Guilt Free by Sara Mesa Wright
Some people do not like olives. And nothing is going to change that, no matter how needy and worthy those olives are.
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Octopus Mama, Lion Mama by EC Sorenson
“I’m new to this,” I whispered. Suzi removed the tube and closed the crib lid. “You’ll adjust,” she said. “The mothers always do.”
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My Mother, Before Me by Rita Ariyoshi
I observed her shoulders curved inward, protecting her heart. I loved the mother in the album. I pitied the mother beside me.
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Mommy, Daddy, Peek-a-boo! A Review by Elisha Emerson
It so happens, you get to meet Mommy on page five. You get to peel back her paper hands and see her flat, lashy eyes.
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The Not-Megan Party by Rachel Hayes
She approached holding three miniature cranes on the flat of her palm. Their perfect fragility hurt so much I had to drop my eyes.
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I am glad we have left the blackberry brambles and grasses unmowed, so that the birds can raise their young there. Community is important, whether you are a person or a bird.
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The nannies also looked at her askance. She appeared to be Miles’s nanny, but how was it that she could nurse him? The pair of them made no sense to anyone.
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Nightfall by Adrienne Garrison
Things I want to remember: Lena playing in the overgrown grass by the fence, her hands dancing up and down like a conductor.
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You, Big Sister, you understand everything. Like what it’s like to have all the important things to yourself. You’ve been taking change out of my bucket for years, just a little at a time.