Last week, I woke up thinking about my son. I don’t have one of course, but I was thinking about him all the same. Sitting on my bookshelf was a book I read in high school called A Lesson Before Dying by Ernest J. Gaines. It’s a novel about state violence, among other things. As I rolled out of bed, I caught sight of it and thought: Ernest. What a great name for a baby boy. I like the name because it sounds like earnest. Sincere.
It is such an innocent desire to have on a Tuesday morning: To be a mother. To raise an honest man.
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