“Unveiling Resilience: How Monika Dutt’s ‘My Rock’ Transforms Heartbreak into Strength”
While you were the youngest of inpatients, I started recovering from surgery. For lunch I usually avoided hospital food and went to Wass Ethiopian Restaurant. I had to cross the street to get to it. At first, my body felt like it could tear apart at any moment, my innards splayed on the street like an unlucky cat. I crept along the crosswalk, needing two lights to complete the crossing. Drivers waited. I didn’t look at them, just focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
The injera and red lentils from Wass were sustenance. I ate the dishes with my hands, ripping the spongy, sour flatbread and using it to scoop up the steaming misir wot, with its pungent aroma of the coriander, cumin, fenugreek, and countless other spices. I returned to the ICU and held you to breastfeed. You suckled the injera-infused milk and snuggled into my fragrant shirt.
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