YVETTA FEDOROVA

“I had never been close to my youngest sister. But after our other sister’s death, grief became the bridge we met on.”

“In a world that relentlessly enforces limits, the love of a pet is a refuge for unconstrained emotion, especially for a child.”

“From Boston to the Bronx, North Carolina to New Jersey, I picture each of these women wearing one of my aunt’s scarves, not as a mourning shawl, but as a wrap woven with memory.”

“After my near-death experience, I lost my fear of death. I didn’t expect to feel so blindsided when my son got leukemia.”

“Go funeral dress shopping. When the saleswoman asks about the event, say: “Dressier than office, but not as fun as cocktail.”

“Eating wild food is part of our family life, but our kids also value fitting in and being liked in the ever-changing adolescent theater of normalcy.”

“Roots that have been planted in faraway places shape an identity, a curiosity and a desire to know more about who you are.”

“My mother’s whisker phobia was a proxy for other fears: being helpless, at the mercy of others’ compassion and care; the body’s incessant and inevitable failure; and death itself.”

“The owl became a beacon of hope: a kindred spirit, with feathers, to narrow the valley between us. Without the owl, we were just two strangers, brought together in the shadow of divorce.”

“Mothers are often seen as vessels to contain and nourish children. I never once felt like that.”

“As a kid, I craved clamor, but my parents cherished serenity over chaos. When I became a parent I wanted to create a welcoming, noisy home.”

“When it comes to memories, we each cling to our version like honey on a measuring spoon.”

“There are hinge points in time when life could be one thing, or another.”

“Sometimes I find myself resenting my brother for never having been born.”

“We had to trick my mother into the memory care center. The doctors called it “therapeutic lying.”

“My religious fundamentalist childhood was built around the fear of sin. My daughters don’t even know the word.”

“I was a closeted gay kid who loved Broadway show tunes. My blue-collar dad loved fishing and baseball. “O Holy Night” briefly erased the distance between us.”

We’re supposed to subject our relationships to some recipe for permanent swoon and are made to believe we are failing if we just live in reality.

“Those long, dark, cold winter nights I had feared more than childbirth itself became something I hadn’t known a night could be: a haven. A shelter.”