eight
Hooves stomp, dogs bark, high-pitched voices spur on cattle—a new morning at the camp is ushered in with a cacophony of noise. The dung-fueled stoves roar, ready to bring the fresh milk to a boil and sizzle the left-over momos into fatty fritters. Sharp smoke fills the air in and around the tents, and if the sounds of the new day won’t wake me up, the smell of it sure will.
I don’t have to open my eyes, for I know—the twins are gone. My fingers feel the knotted string tied around my wrist. They left me with a blessing and a reminder. A blessing for an auspicious journey, one without obstacles, and a reminder to keep the path of boundless compassion and discerning wisdom.
A mix of emotions waves through me as I rub the knot. There’s a twinge of disappointment—my sisters have gone,
