She holds the baby inhaling his sweet smell and kisses his forehead for the last time. She carefully puts him in a wicker basket that she tested over and over, to make sure that it has no leaks and is lightweight enough to float carrying her precious child. She gets as close as she dares to the river, her lips moving in prayer and the tears she tries to hold back are defiant.
As we are witnessing it, we are horrified. “Is she mad?” “Should I call 911?” Ready to pull out our cell-phones. Not yet. Right now we are only figuratively witnessing this mother and child. We are together in the text of the Exodus, and the narrator goes on to tell us that the woman we are watching has her daughter at her side. The girl does not cry, “Mother stop.” She does not retrieve the wicker basket; instead, gathering her long dress in one hand she runs following the floating basket down the river, when she hears the laughter of women.
