Mothers bend. Mothers mold.
When I’m at work, I keep my mind in a room. The feelings are kept in a closet, and I don’t cross anything that might make me feel what I allow myself to feel at home. Like always, I move through my routine. Emails. Team meetings. Chats. Missed calls. In the middle of it, I step away for a moment. My headphones go on. Sometimes it’s a song, sometimes a book, sometimes nothing at all. I let the silence engulf me into small thoughts. Hmm, remember when… How many steps do I have so far? Today, though, it was different. I took a different route. One I’ve taken before, but this time I decided to really look at the structure of the building. To notice the details, I had missed. At the end of the hall there’s a hidden corridor that lets the light in well. It’s lined with rectangular windows. When you look out, you see structures and more structures. Through one opening I can see the exit of my old culinary hall. Two culinary students are hanging out there; it takes me back to the time I...