Something Mending -- VOL 1

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My mother is an embodiment of everything I want to be, and everything I don't want to be. She's kind, a little too kind. She's beautiful. She's strong. She's brave, too brave. She is wild, trust me, too wild. She is meek. She takes shit, including mine, I don't even take my own shit. She's smart, very smart.

She's a juxtaposition of everything I aspire to be, and the ones I'd rather not be. More than often, I see myself in her, She made me, her kindness. She's an All or Nothing woman, and quite frankly, we are her all. She's an Artist that can't be too far away from her Art. A strong woman who draws strength from her pain. She cries, more than often -- I got that from her -- and she gets up, always -- got that too from her -- She bounces back, and she's up and doing.

Sometimes I wonder if she could be more than she is, but I see the love and satisfaction in her eyes when she stares at us, and I know, she's all she could be, A mother, A mentor, An Artist, A never ending source of joy, the best part of our life, A warrior, A woman. She's all she could be, and it's left to us to make her the things we think she could still be.

If you ask me the parts of her I never want to be, I cannot say because I'm too ashamed, I'm not a mother, I'm not half the woman she is, I cannot relate, She's strong, and I'm not, at least not all the time.

4:16am. 4th, October, Twenty twenty-one.