The Relationship We Could Have Had
Mourning the mother-daughter connection I never had
The water is warm, the sound of an alto accompanied by a guitar streams in, and candles flicker overhead. My 15-year-old daughter and I sit side by side in a large water-filled room of Sevilla’s Baños Arabes. We listen to the singer switch from Portuguese fado to Spanish bolero to Frank Sinatra’s legato, and I think…