I grab the Worcestershire sauce and think of you. How you would always barbecue those huge rib eye steaks. How I would always pull away when you tried to hug me as a teenager. How I never understood your need for affection.
Now I do. I get exactly how you must have felt to see little pieces of you brought to life. You must have been in awe.
You made creation seem so easy. Seven of us, all girls.
Yet, I always knew somehow that it would be hard for me. Even as a little girl, I somehow knew. Conception would be a struggle.
And, as I sit here at the Steer n Stein trying to process the knowledge that what once was in me may no longer be. Reconciling that all this effort toward parenthood has been for naught.
I take a bite of steak and chew. I don't taste anything but that sauce.
It reminds me of you.