My dad once told me that Winstone Churchill said that Russia was riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. According to my dad, Churchill had been talking about my mother. This was before the divorce, and he said it half-bitterly, half-respectfully. Because even when he hated her, he admired her.

I think he would have stayed with her forever, trying to figure out the mystery. He was a puzzle solver, the kind of person who likes theorems, theories. X always had to equal something. It couldn't just be X.

To me, my mother wasn't that mysterious. She was my mother. Always reasonable, always sure of herself. To me, she was about as mysterious as a glass fo water. She knew what she wanted; she knew what she didn't want. And that was to be married to my father. I wasn't sure if it was that she fell our of love or if it was that she just never was. in love, I mean.

Jenny Han

Tag: mother-and-daughter familial-perspectives husband-and-wife p51

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There are things in our blood that are just naturally passed down to us, whether we want to recognize them or not.

Raquel Cepeda

Tag: dna bloodlines familial-perspectives ancestral-dna ancestral-memory

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Thank you to Giulia Fani, Joan Spence and my sister for the rooms and desks they loaned me.

Moez Surani

Tag: temporality familial-perspectives favoritism graciousness privatization boundlessness floaters politicized-spaces rhizome

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