Last month, I watched a child I once bounced on my knee bounce a baby on his knee—while his three teenagers sang in harmony. There he was, holding his cousin’s baby, a twinkle in his eye. And I had one of those strange experiences of time when it stops behaving like a straight line. His parents, my elders, sat next to me.

How do we cooperate when the stakes feel so high? How do we behave kindly when we feel frayed around all our edges? What does love look like when I am tired and haven’t asked for what I need?