Go as a River

by Shelley Read

But the one benefit of having a dead mother is the ability to turn her into an unwavering ally, whether she would have been one or not.

Strength, I had learned, was like this littered forest floor, built of small triumphs and infinite blunders, sunny hours followed by sudden storms that tore it all down. We are one and all alike if for no other reason than the excruciating and beautiful way we grow piece by unpredictable piece, falling, pushing from the debris, rising again, and hoping for the best.