I found a hair clip in my handbag at work and felt both tired and loved

Dear Delyara, It was my daughter’s, of course. Pink plastic, slightly bent, living among receipts and keys and all the other evidence that my life no longer belongs to one clean category. I pulled it out and smiled, then sighed. That is the emotional tone of so much of parenting now — affection and depletion braided together so tightly I can’t always separate them.