I lay curled into a ball on my childhood bed that had once been my mother’s when she was a girl. I’d have a daughter, I was sure. Women are born with all their eggs in their ovaries, like the seeds of a fruit. I’d been with my mother since she’d been in my grandmother’s womb, and now I was sleeping in her bed and my mother was in the next room sleeping in her mother’s. It made me think of us like Russian dolls. Women carried inside women carried inside women.
