Leaving home can be seen in different ways. Leaving home because you can’t cope with the death of your seven-year-old, leaving home because you are going to college, leaving home because you have become a piece of furniture for the rest of your family. Three very different stories. The first one is particularly touching. A couple loses their daughter and, in the days afterwards, she grows taller, taking in the size of her daughter as he becomes smaller, the size of his daughter taken away from him. The two other stories are stories for mothers, how you have to separate at one point from the child you carried for twenty years and how you need to leave to find yourself when you have catered for a family for years. Nice evening read.
“I can’t even speak; as it turns out, there aren’t words for when you’re so full of light you think you might explode or faint or scream, or maybe all three.”
Content
Weight and measures / An Open Letter to My Oldest Son, As He Leaves For College / Ritz