I found my old diary tonight. A brokenness I had forgotten pen pressured so deep it punctured page. I ran my fingers over my words and there inside ridges black I found a little girl desperate for someone to save her, desperate for the very woman I have become.
If your mother does not love you well or is no longer here to love you well, may you feel worthy enough to open to the thousand tiny ways the spirit of mother longs to love you today.
