As the weather turned cold, that yearning I’d had since girlhood was muted by the tenderness and reassurance, perhaps especially when we weren’t together, of carrying James in my heart and knowing he was carrying me in his. This was true during both mundane tasks, such as taking a trash bag down the hall to the chute in my apartment building, and during moments when I’d once have felt a heightened loneliness, such as before bed or when I could smell fall leaves burning.
