I am so honored to be the vessel into which you pour this story of pain and strength.

I could not get my fill of looking. There should be a song for women to sing at this moment or a prayer to recite. But perhaps there is none because there are no words strong enough to name that moment.

I moved my arms through the water, feeling them float on the surface, watching the waves and wake that followed my gesture. Here was magic, I thought. Here was something holy.

The Bible - it's sort of the other person in the room. There's this book, the reader, and the Bible.

The more a daughter knows the details of her mother's life [...] the stronger the daughter.

The other reason women wanted daughters was to keep their memories alive.

My heart is a ladle of sweet water brimming over.