Unfinished

To Her

People often ask me, with how I've lived my life how do I plan on raising my own daughter..

If she's anything like her mother, her cheeks will be a handful, pillars of grandmothers pinching hands.
If she's anything like her mother her thighs will rub, her body will stretch, her heart will love too fast, her eyes will wander, her brain won't be listened to until later.
If she's anything like her mother, she'll only see the beauty in the roses and never the danger. She'll want to grab one and admire it for all it is only to be pricked by thorns that have guarded it since it's blossoming.
If she's anything like her mother, her wandering eyes and over zealous brain will lead her onto adventures too big for even her.
If she's anything like her mother, she'll never admit what's wrong, she will wallow by herself, letting the walls of her room swallow her into the corners as she cries into knees that will eventually hold every tear.
If I'm anything like my mother, I will tell her that the body they say is too big, holds the most love. If I'm anything like my mother I will remind her of her beauty every day. If I'm anything like my mother I will lay in bed with her in silence, simply letting our tears be the healing we need.
If I'm anything like my mother I will be there for every turn and curve and at the top of each mountain I will be there waiting for her.

Perhaps though.. she'll be nothing like me.

- Belle Porter.