“oh antic Godreturn to memy mother in her thirties leaned across the front porch the huge pillow of her breasts pressing against the railsummoning me in for bed.I am almost the dead woman’s age times two.I can barely recall her songthe scent of her handsthough her wild hair scratches my dreams at night. return to me, oh Lord of then and now, my mother’s calling,her young voice humming my name.”

“Since our nights together on that trip, I had longed every night to feel her next to me, to curl up against her, my stomach against her behind and my chest against her back, to rest my hand on her breasts, to reach out for her when I woke up in the night, find her, push my leg over her legs, and press my face against her shoulder.”

“Sometimes she teased me that she’d eventually catch up to me in age and be my older sibling. Looking at her now, with that determined glint in her eyes and the confidence in her voice, I could almost believe her”

“Pausing in front of her, her mother brushed the hair back from her face and smiled sweetly at her before she kissed her brow. "You've changed much, my little treasure."A stinging wave of grief consumed her as she heard her mother's blessed voice again. Tears welled in her eyes. "I've missed you, Mama."-Seren and her mother, in a dream.”

“I missed the sound of her shuffling her homework while I listened to music on her bed. I missed the cold of her feet against my legs when she climbed into bed.I missed the shape of her shadow where it fell across the page of my book. I missed the smell of her hair and the sound of her breath and my Rilke on her nightstand and her wet towel thrown over the back of her desk chair. It felt like I should be sated after having a whole day with her, but it just made me miss her more.”

“Oh yeah, that’s the one who kept watching me as if she was waiting for me to grow fangs and try to eat her. I couldn’t help it—I used my claws to scratch my nose. Her eyes almost popped out of their sockets.”