Thursday, March 24, 2011

Bring me home.


The grown-up girl is sitting there, playing with a little-girl princess toy. She took her pants off because they were stuffy. So she sits there in her underwear. Playing.

The world will swallow her whole. But not if she doesn't let it.

She's beauty and spice and a warm drink and some vinegar.

She opens me up. The majority of the time, she hoists me on her shoulders, clasping my hands as we wade through truth, tragedy and hundreds of normal days.

My girls bring me home.

They make being me possible.

3 comments:

Lisa said...

Her name suits her so well.

Dena said...

Beautiful.

Rachel said...

You are such an inspiration!