Status Updates From History of the Rain

But the fact is grief doesn’t know we invented time. Grief has its own tide and comes and goes in waves.

Women carry on. They endure the way old ships do, breasting into outrageous waters, ache and creak, hull holed and decks awash, yet find anchorage in the ordinary, in tables to be wiped down, pots to scrub, and endless ashes to be put out.