"My mother and I shared July—the fireworks, the blistering heat, the ruby birthstone. But I’d learn to celebrate my birthday without her..."

"On June 4, 2015, I was sixteen and a half—almost, minus six days. I was probably working at the store that was attached to my dance studio..."

"On that day, I, a lifelong introvert who willed myself to be an extrovert for forty weeks of the year, was mostly anxious..."

I’m dreaming that I’m awake.

"It’s the same dream; everyone is eating together..."

"Summer has arrived in Cape Town. Here, at the end of the world, the light has an ethereal quality..."

"Social media has taught me a lot about how other people see their mothers after they’ve died..."

"I’m driving my son to preschool along Fairview Road. It’s so unseasonably warm that but for the bare bone-tops of sycamores..."

"I wake readily. Motherhood made sleeping lightly a permanent accessory. No longer do I afford myself the luxury of deep sleeping..."

"J was the most charming music teacher in my high school. He sang beautiful Italian love songs..."