When I was young I thought that generosity was something I would develop as I got older, like hips and breasts and secondary sex characteristics. I kept waiting for it, waiting to step into adulthood as though it were a place I could arrive to—a house somewhere warm and golden and blossoming, where everything was graceful and made sense. But instead my breasts stayed small and I felt like a child even though I was doing adult things and it was hard, often, to be kind, even when I wanted to be kind, and especially when I didn’t.
heaven
heaven
heaven
When I was young I thought that generosity was something I would develop as I got older, like hips and breasts and secondary sex characteristics. I kept waiting for it, waiting to step into adulthood as though it were a place I could arrive to—a house somewhere warm and golden and blossoming, where everything was graceful and made sense. But instead my breasts stayed small and I felt like a child even though I was doing adult things and it was hard, often, to be kind, even when I wanted to be kind, and especially when I didn’t.