Mabel used to catch babies until two weeks ago when she abruptly announced to all her “mothers” that she was closing up shop. In the months leading up to her decision, the feeling that she was past her prime had crystallized into dead certainty. There was no one decisive moment, though that would have made for a better narrative. Instead it was the slow accumulation of sleepless nights, fretful hours by the mother’s side as she labored towards birth that had finally taken its toll. Knowing she would miss the crazy joy at the moment of birth, Mabel moved back to Charleston where the sweet hot air of home coaxed her towards emptiness, silence and fresh pools of wonder