Their Body, Themself
My child casually peeled their T-shirt off; I was the one who felt exposed.
It was unseasonably warm for winter in Maui, according to our guide, and surprisingly dry. We’d hiked an hour through what had been advertised as a rain forest, although I’d been picturing more of a lush-dense-overgrowth-covered-in-moss situation as opposed to the modest, ginger-infested private farmland it turned out to be.
Enter your email address to receive notifications for author Rachel Klein
Confirmation link sent to your email to add you to notification list for author Rachel Klein
More by this author
“I saw that God I’d been so determined to believe in not as an absolute, but as a construct that couldn’t take a joke.”
“My parents had a shared language I didn’t understand, messes I couldn’t always be there to tidy.”
More in this series
Maniacal clowns and pale men with eyes in their palms are the worst my son has to fear in life. Or so I wish.