Rachel Yoder

this directive to enjoy oneself within the mystery

She did not let herself dwell on the tight ball of fear inside her, because this sort of indulgence was one she could not afford.

She did not let herself dwell on the tight ball of fear inside her, because this sort of indulgence was one she could not afford.

and now she would be this, whatever this was. A wild, complicated woman with strange yearnings. Stubborn and angry—soft and sweet, though, too. She was creator and then also the dark force that roamed the night. She was part high-minded intention and part instinct, raw flight

You always think something’s wrong with you, he said pleasantly.

ONE DAY, THE MOTHER was a mother, but then, one night, she was quite suddenly something else.

but she knew the horrible truth, that Nightbitch had always been there, not even that far below the surface.

Figure out how to balance it all.

I think working mother is perhaps the most nonsensical concept ever concocted. I mean, who isn’t a working mother? And then add a paid job to it, so what are you then? A working working mother? Imagine saying working father.

The kind working mother nodded with pity on her face. The other mom—the mom who did not sleep and had a baby and worked her dream job, the mom who was perhaps struggling, who needed some support, who was doing her best…but yeesh—was not making this look like it should look. Appearances. We can have it all. Why was she so ungrateful?