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.
When I was six I fell on a broken window. Once I realized no one was coming I stopped screaming and pulled the shard from my middle. This is life for some of us. This has been life for me.
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.
