Some Days The Box Wins
Her Hands His Eyes —Entry 11 This was one of those weeks. I sat down to write on Tuesday. I opened the photographs. I looked…
-
-
Where Grief Found Me
Her Hands His Eyes — Entry 10 There is a chapter in this book that I almost didn’t write. Not because I didn’t know what…
-
The Bowl That Said Everything
Her Hands His Eyes — Entry 9 What my mother knew without being asked. What a bowl of curry said about a young man at…
-
The Morning We Left
Her Hands His Eyes — Entry 8 What a six-year-old knew without knowing. What a father saw without saying. I was six years old. The…
-
Her Hands Mother’s Love
Her Hands His Eyes — Entry 7 I’ve been sitting with this one for a while now. I keep coming back to the memory of…
-
Hackensack 1976 — He Just Held On
Her Hands His Eyes — Entry 6 Six years old. 8,600 miles from home. One smile that made room for everything. I’ve been going through…
-
What Her Hands Knew
Her Hands His Eyes — Entry 5 Four tries. One smell. The recipe she never wrote down. She never measured. Not once in her life….
-
It Was All of Us
Her Hands His Eyes — Entry 4 The moment I understood what this book really was. I was typing when it hit me. Not dramatically….
-
The Box on the Counter
Her Hands His Eyes Entry — 3 Twenty-four years. One Saturday morning. The first sentence. On a Saturday morning, Chris came into the kitchen, put…
-
Measuring what my mother never wrote down.
Her Hands His Eyes — Entry 2 The recipes lived in her hands. Not on paper. Never on paper. She never measured. Not once in…
-
Why I Finally Opened It
Entry 1 — Her Hands His Eyes A brown cardboard box. Twenty-four years. Everything this family carried between two countries. I carried a brown cardboard…