My loving, difficult sister offered to come the weekend before my first child’s birth. But I’d promised my husband—never her fan—we’d have those last, free days alone before everything changed. “I understand,” she said. Early Sunday morning, two voices outside our bedroom window sang “si en tu ventana llega una paloma,” waking us: My sister and young niece had Amtrak-ed overnight as a surprise. “Don’t let them in!” my partner begged. I rose; riven, I opened the street door. On the sidewalk, they grinned and danced, suitcases gift-stuffed. I cried out, “You can’t come in.” Then everything changed.
Alabama born and raised, Leslie Cohen is a former lawyer, union organizer, and teacher, and a current editor.