کورتە

Grace is a frustrated young mother with little time on her hands, and her young son’s demands are making her impatient. At dawn, he yearns for his mother to carry him; at dusk, a bedtime story. She wished her young son would grow up quickly, just like she did: rushing gleefully into the adulthood once her training wheels came off. She was in such a hurry to grow up, that she forgot what it was like to hold a chubby, sticky, grubby hand, and to cherish the time she had with her son, face to cheek, hand in hand.