Every Precious and Fragile Thing

by Barbara Davis

like love, creepy was in the eye of the beholder, and that loving a thing was all that was necessary to make it precious.

Mothers aren’t supposed to have yesterdays. To our children, we’re blank slates, patiently awaiting their appearance so our lives can finally begin. In their minds, we’ve kept no secrets, dreamed no dreams, committed no sins. But few of us come to motherhood unmarked by life. We’ve had pasts and passions—and yes, regrets.