In May 2022, we buried my mother on a bed of compost she and I created together. Surrounded by the mycorrhizae she loved, my mother was now in the care of others and I was free from my 56 year responsibility to make her happy. Since birth, my job had been to bring joy and distraction after my brother Paul, whom I never knew, died of ‘crib death.’ Over the decades, this expectation wore me down. 

After my mother died, I kept her spirit, and the spirits of other women in my life at arms length, creating still lives with their belongings. Over time those belongings beckoned...

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