When another friend had a miscarriage, we brought her a basketful of treasures, including some Japanese paper for writing goodbyes, some rose oil and beeswax candles for a ritual bath, and wildflower seeds to plant in memory of the life that briefly visited her. These small but symbolic items invited her to befriend her loss, to be in conversation

I found something oddly comforting in the way the greenery wrapped me in an embrace. The plants were fragile and alive and impermanent—just like me—and yet, they’d still managed to reclaim the ancient structure. It was a little inspiring.