a fire / a trough / a pill
Is every day perfect? Absolutely not. Is it good enough? Better than I expected, even? Yes. Yes it is.
You don’t have to get dirt under your fingernails to be a good mother.
He’s this whole entire other person and it’s happened in secret.
be with them now; the rest can wait.
Put on your own oxygen mask first. Always.
I scooped up that five year old, all arms and legs, brought him to my lap and I hugged him tight. I held him and I told him he had every right to feel angry.
for the guilt you harvest for falling to pieces.
The key chain from the aquarium sat at the other end of the kitchen table. I watched the blue-dyed water and the turtle inside shake, each time he sunk into his chair and wriggled, refusing to read an assignment.
I snapped quick photos of your concentration, placed the phone down and watched your fingers move, how you dipped your brushes a little too aggressively, swirled through the orange like a hurricane then slapped on too many layers.