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"Your birth was auspicious, you know—no, no caul to be torn into. You arrived during a storm. The nurse laid you on my chest as a snowsquall gridlocked every skyway and side-street. You first latched at my breast while blizzard winds whipped icy flakes into a blinding fury. There is nothing more sacred than the quiet hours and soft luminescence that follow heavy snow."

STORY NOTES: 

This story is a meditation on grief and love. As a foster and a bio parent I spend a lot of time reflecting on my role in the lives of the children I care for.

Art by Kirbi Fagan