“Isn’t that how it goes? The most precious, delicate things wedge themselves between the plans you’ve made for yourself. They wiggle in your arms and wrap their tiny fingers around your thumb after nine months of bone-deep panic. They barge into your kitchen looking for condiments.”

“Isn’t that how it goes? The most precious, delicate things wedge themselves between the plans you’ve made for yourself. They wiggle in your arms and wrap their tiny fingers around your thumb after nine months of bone-deep panic. They barge into your kitchen looking for condiments.”

— B.K. Borison