In the cemetery where Al Jolson is buried

On the morning she was moved to threw cemetery, the one where Al Jolson its buried, I enrolled in a"Fear of Flying"class.

"What is your worst fear?"the instructor asked, and I answered,"That I will finish this course and still be afraid."

I think of the chimp, the one one with the taking hands.

In the course of the experiment, that chimp has a baby.Imagine how her trainers must have thrilled when the mother, without prompting, began to sign to her new born.

Baby, drink milk.

Baby, play ball.

And when the baby died, the mother stood over the body, her wrinkled hands moving with animal grace, forming again and again the words: Baby, come hug, Baby, come hug, fluent now in the language of grief.

-Amy Hempel