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Bubbe wrapped me in a towel, baked in the Arizona sun, draping herself in the same green-ratted robe she’d worn since my first memory. Worried I’d catch a cold, she jogged us home from the pool, sprinting upstairs to draw me a warm bath. “Get in, Mara, rolling her r’s, her accent dripping in Yiddish. Soaking in the healing water, I anticipated the cut-up Red Delicious she always had waiting for me. Bubbe checked on me every few minutes, anxious I’d vanish like the rest of Holocaust. our family in the “I’m okay,” I say, reassuring my grandmother I’m safe.
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Dr. Tamara MC is a writer and interdisciplinary artist who attended Columbia University. She has completed fellowships at Bread Loaf, Iowa Writers’ Workshop, Sewanee, Ragdale, Cave Canem, VONA, and VCCA. Her writing appears in The New York Times, New York Magazine, Newsweek, Salon, Los Angeles Review of Books, and 70+ other distinguished publications. www.tamaramc.com https:// bsky.app/profile/tamaramc.baky.social @tamaramcphd @TamaraMCPhD