Judith Shadford

A bunch of us were hanging out in Miriam’s arbor, kind of waiting to see if Peter was going to show up after putting his nets away, kind of not caring if he didn’t, since things always got a lot louder when he arrived.

No clue. They have no clue. I tied a towel around my waist, filled a big bowl with hot water and carried it into the hallway where they were sitting around on benches, waiting for the women to announce that Passover was ready.

In a couple weeks Yossef and I were texting each other like pros.

After a career in marketing and public relations in New York City and Santa Barbara, Calif., Judith Shadford moved to the Northwest to focus on writing.

I was milking the goats in the shed when the mail came. I could hear Mother’s voice—calm, polite, everyday.