June climbed down tiredly from her perch, and sat at the kitchen table, resting her hot cheek on the cold tabletop while Amos called the rest of the family down from their places of hiding. 

Posting feels sacrificial. Like giving something away. It’s an act of vulnerability, isn’t it? Sending something personal out into the unknown, with the possibility someone might see it, relate, make contact.

While the lamb is roasting, I go to the bathroom and cut off some of my hair with the kitchen scissors.