I Named My Daughter After the Woman I Wish She Could Have Met
Something unexpected cracks me open every year: Tonight, it was my daughter, recognizing the name I’d given her because I couldn’t give her the woman herself.
wrongness,I’ll carry you
How shameful. They could all see my bra.
waiting. One, two, three, four, five . . .You can do it!
Por favor, Nanny, Ayudame!
I haddone it,
Bring me my sandals. Take me home.
I’ll see you in my dreams.
Katie Gutierrez lives in San Antonio, Texas, with her husband, one-year-old daughter, and two dogs. Katie has an MFA from Texas State University, and her fiction and essays have appeared or are forthcoming in Catapult, Washington Post, Lit Hub, Motherwell, and more. She is working on a novel while her baby naps. Find her on Twitter @katie_gutz.
More by this author
More in this series
“I felt as though I’d been inducted into a special society of survivors.”
All the wrong people are crying, and all the people who ought to feel something do not.