How it always should be

Rosie and Penn have five growing sons. At least, that's what they think.

When their youngest child, Claude, is five years old, he starts telling them that when he grows up, he wants to be a girl scientist. He wants to be a girl doctor... he wants to be a girl.

Rosie and Penn are very present parents. They are very liberal people. They are open-minded and at first just have a gender-neutral household. Sure, Claude can wear a dress if he wants to. His grandmother buys him a pink bikini and they don't argue with her about it. They let him grow his hair out.

Eventually, it's pretty clear that Claude is a girl, and when Claude asks, the family makes a seamless transition along with her. Just like that, Claude is Poppy.

Penn and Rosie are doing their best for their child. They even move the family to a more liberal part of the country in hopes of keeping Poppy safe and happy. They have meetings via Skype with a social worker who helps them navigate these waters. Sometimes it seems that they've overcorrected and done too good a job, and this is also to Poppy's detriment.

But who can tell what the right thing to do is in every situation? There is no control sample in a human life. Parents have to keep making the best choice the best they can, and then again, and again, and hope for the best. This is how it always is.

I gave this book a solid 5. The writing is stellar and the subject is handled with great care. Poppy does seem a little too old for her age sometimes, but that's chalked up to having four older siblings. Rosie and Penn are the parents that ever trans child deserves.

Swept Away

Wave is a memoir by Sonali Deraniyagala. I found it through Anne Bogel's excellent podcast, What Should I Read Next? Anne does such a great job describing each book that she recommends that I would read the back of a Cap'n Crunch box if she described it. I have so many books on my TBR list from her!

This is the story of Sonali's family, her sons, husband, and parents. They were all swept away and killed by the tsunami on December 26, 2004 in Sri Lanka. Miraculously, Sonali survives. She doesn't feel that it's a miracle, though. She spends the next weeks... years... wondering why she's still alive.

Somehow, though, she goes on, and she tells us about it in this gripping little book. One of her sons is identified right away, but she has to wait to hear about her husband and other son. They are eventually identified after authorities dig up a mass grave. She continues to visit the site where their hotel used to be and finds pieces of their belongings in the debris; a t-shirt, a toy.

I wasn't going to pick it up off my pile just yet. It sounded so depressing and I already had a couple other books I was in the middle of, but I was intrigued so I figured I'd just read the first few pages. When I looked up again, I was on page 50. The writing is beautiful and doesn't allow you to put the book down.

I lost my mother in 2000. It's amazing to believe that it's been almost 19 years since I saw her. I was the first of my friends to lose a parent; I was only 21. When people asked me what it felt like, I told them that grief is like a wave. It comes at you when you have your back to it and it can completely knock you off your feet. Sometimes the waves are smaller and just distract you from what you're doing. Other waves are overpowering and you need time to recover as you relive the loss. They can be brought on by a song on the radio, a smell, even a commercial on TV. They're farther apart for me now than they once were, but there have been big ones in recent years. A college friend of my mother's found my family on social media and wanted to return a charcoal portrait she'd had done during her senior year of high school on a trip to France. He gave it to me and I'm glad I was sitting down because it's a perfect likeness. My sister has two children who would have loved to know their grandmother. She would have adored them. I met my boyfriend 5 years ago; I wish he could have known her.

I am in awe of Sonali's strength as she navigates this tragedy. Every day is a step forward.