My daughter saved me the last biscuit and something in me broke open

Dear Delyara, It was just one biscuit. That’s why it mattered so much. She had put it on a napkin and written “for Mum” in her uneven handwriting, and when I saw it, I felt this ridiculous rush of emotion that had nothing to do with sugar and everything to do with being remembered in a small domestic way. I think mothers become hungry for that. Not grand gratitude. Just evidence that we still exist in the middle of all the giving as people with our own little wants and tiredness and place at the table. I stood in the kitchen and ate it very slowly. I almost cried halfway through.