It's a wonder that any mother ever called a daughter Dinah again. But some did. Maybe you guessed that there was more to me than the voiceless cipher in the text. Maybe you heard it in the music of my name: the first vowel high and clear, as when a mother calls to her child at dusk; the second sound soft, for whispering secrets on pillows. Dee-nah.
Anita DiamentThere's nothing quite like a real . . . train conductor to add color to a quotidian commute
Anita DiamentIt's a good thing babies don't give you a lot of time to think. You fall in love with them and when you realize how much they love you back, life is very simple.
Anita DiamentI 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.
Anita Diament