The mother said, "Here is something my mother never told me."

Mrs. K warned the girls, "If a car slows near you, squat and mark its license plate in the dirt. Use your finger or a stick."

Here is a ritual for two daughters. Gather playing cards. Sit at a table and begin to shuffle. Ask, "What is your question." Say, "What do you see."

The mother did not attend the recital. "My mom suffers migraines," laughed the daughter, flush from the applause.

The daughter looked out the car window at the mother who was looking in. There were three things between them, maybe more.

The mother home-schooled all three children. "Mom likes to keep us close," laughed the daughter.

The daughter watched the mother, ready to duck.

Mrs. W made opportunities for others. In group photographs, she always stood center front.

Here is a ritual for two daughters. Steal your mother's unmatched socks. Decide which color is right and make the other left. Let one sock say, "I am right." Make one sock say, "You left me."

Here is a ritual for two daughters. Sit together, cross-legged on the floor. Picture the light around and inside you. Count backwards from ten. Tell me: what do you see? Tell me: how do you mean that?

The mother stared at the daughter's son. "Mom always prefers females," laughed her daughter.

Here is a ritual for two daughters. Find a private table in a courtyard or kitchen. Sit together and speak the name of another, obviously absent, perfectly loathed. Ask, "Can you believe her?" Answer, "I'd rather not."

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How do you feel about the word mother? Two recommended books: Mother Reader: Essential Writings on Motherhood, edited by Moyra Davey, and Revolutionary Mothering: Love on the Front Lines, edited by Alexis Pauline Gumbs, China Martens, and Mai'a Williams.