Letter No. II

Suddenly, I thought about how much I had been walking lately. I thought about my steps; how many steps I have made today, how many steps I will make until dark. One, two, three, seven, twenty-one, forty-two, ninety-eight—back to Office No. 301 to get the dissolution certificate of the company. A company that went bankrupt in 1983 and its founders still have to deal with the problems...even 30 years later. It seems slightly unfair to me. After that there are the subway stairs and me walking up and down the dock waiting for the train to Piraeus to come. Too many steps in a day. Too many steps to be made by a woman.

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When Saying "I Love You" Isn't Enough

I don’t remember the last words my dad spoke to me. I’m sure it was something inconsequential or even nonsensical. After all, he wasn’t totally lucid for the last several days (or even several weeks) of his life. Every time I left the room, I tried to make sure that I said “I love you,” just in case it ended up being the last words he ever heard. Or maybe I said it more so that I could feel positively about our final interaction as I tried to go on living my life. It didn’t work.

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Letter to My Daughter (At 2ish Months)

Dear Daughter,

[The last time I] wrote you, I was 25 weeks pregnant, and I hadn’t yet experienced the miracle of seeing your face. It’s now been two months since the midwife caught the squirmy, slimy, perfect alien from my belly (that was you) and said that you were mine. Every day since then, I haven’t been able to stop marveling at your beauty. It’s not mainly a matter of your appearance—although you are adorable—but instead, it’s the radiance of your whole personhood. Here’s what I see when I look at you.

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Dear Daughter

Dear daughter,

With each passing day you grow a little taller, you toddle a little faster, you babble a little more. Your fears are few (and make no sense): you’ll fly off the stairs and you have no concept of the edge of a bed, but a threshold from one room to the next makes you stop dead to carefully tiptoe over, holding on to the door frame for dear life.

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My Immigration Story

My family lived in a village outside of Dohuk, Iraq (Kurdistan) in the fall of 1988. I was 1.5 and my brother was 3 weeks old. Neighboring villagers rushed to come tell us that Sadamm and his army was on the move and we needed to leave. We left with the clothes on our backs and fear in our hearts. The journey on foot over the treacherous mountains seemed to take forever. We finally made it across the border to Turkey and settled in a refugee camp in Mardin, Turkey.

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All Praise

During high school I was scrupulous in my pursuit of God. Enchanted by the idea of saving myself for someone special and keeping myself pure, I devoured books like “I Kissed Dating Goodbye” and wore shirts with catchy slogans like “Modest is Hottest.” My friends and I created accountability groups where we confessed unholy thoughts we had about romantic interests (which we knew would never come into fruition because our crushes were people we merely admired from afar).

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Holiday Cheer

Christmas, a time for connecting with old friends.  In the week between Christmas and New Years Eve, people consider the age-old tradition of setting New Years resolutions.  Already I’ve seen countless memes wishing the end of 2016 away as the year to forget.  When we look back at 2016, we remember endless months of campaigning commercials; the Chicago Cubs finally won the World Series after 108 years, Brexit from the EU, Samsung’s misstep with the explosive Note 7.  But even more than that, remember the good stuff…and good stuff in 2016 exists.  Like my beautiful niece’s first birthday party, laughs shared with coworkers, parties with friends, and the first date that led to a relationship.

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The Clock

I want to tell you about the time my sister, my mother, and I followed the desire of my sister’s heart. We went into the clock store at the mall. My sister went first when the idea came to her. She found the grandfather clock she believed would fit grandma’s house best—the one she thought grandma would want.

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Ye Old Cat Shirt

I resent Christmas more and more the older I get. It’s a combination of my lack of religion, my extreme laziness and my crippling anxiety. I stress myself out to the point of hyperventilation over how much money I’m going to spend (how many years can I skate by on homemade gifts before it becomes tacky?), what to get people (is it appropriate to just give someone a Target gift card if you’ve known them for over 10 years?), and about how I’m going to get it for them (do I shop online and hope that it ships in time, or do I brave the masses of the screaming kids and sweaty people at the mall?). Once I’ve got the gifts in hand, I look forward to the feeling of sweet, sweet relief that I get when I’ve handed them off, although I really don’t start to feel remotely relaxed until after the new year.

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The Amie Project

We all lose people we love, and in my experience, there are so many things I wish I could have asked but never got the chance to. So, I dedicated an afternoon to asking my grandmother – who raised three kids, saw a good chunk of the world, was a military wife and then found herself raising me in retirement – some questions that I can cherish forever. I also took the opportunity to take some pictures of her house, a time capsule that has barely changed in my life. It turned out to be an incredibly emotional moment for me when I sat down later on and listened to her answers. I hope you enjoy this glimpse into her life.

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Grandma Rice: The Embodiment of Grace, Kindness, and Love

Evelyn Grace Swearman-Rice was my great-grandmother. Everyone in my family knew her simply as Grandma Rice. Everyone who knew her, including myself remember her as a sweet, gentle woman who loved everyone that she met. She always had something nice to say, and you never heard her swear. She’d give you her shoulder to cry on, a kiss to make you feel better and a whole mess of candy even if you weren’t supposed to eat any!

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