This is Easter in the House of God
She squeezes her eyes tightly shut and holds her breath. Her head is bald. Her belly round and taut. Her daughter stands over her, clasping both hands in hers, her own eyes tightly shut, softly singing a song of hope and redemption. Her husband sits quietly, barely present, in the far corner of the room. She tenses when I slide the needle into her skin, gasps at the sting of …
