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8:15 am Busan
There is only one thing that matters when you become a mother. When you can. When your able to, healthy to, wanting to.
And that's your kids.
For me at least.
Most certainly, undoubtedly, for me.
However, I know this world has hungrier empires and with it, heartless followers. Kingdoms you could say. Palaces and over the top homes (houses) built for the heartless. Or more so built by.
I try so hard not to stand among such spiteful army. A military made up of the selfish and the greedy, and the unlucky ones.
The ones who aren't blessed with the capacity to love beyond own self.
Who choose to have kids, and then choose to neglect in their home.
And what a shame... because that's the best part of being a mother; giving all your love to someone else. Some two, three, however big your family is.
It's beautiful and yet so terrifying.
So absolutely terrifying. To put your love in the hands of another human is like putting your life on the line – yourself in swords reach.
They get hit; you get hit. You lose them; you lose everything.
And that's the scariest part.
Fear of losing them.
Of losing everything.
Today -- today I fear of losing one.
My eldest. My everything.
My beautiful Jennie Ruby Jane.
She who has always been shy, always been sweet, always been there with the biggest heart and gentlest thoughts.
Always - she had always been that girl. So, when she got shyer, quieter, softer – I didn't think much of it. It didn't seem so big of a deal. Not until one trip. A family outing - not until then did I see...
...see how wrong I was.
My husband had gotten a call from Lisa earlier. She was apparently panicked and worried and desperate for us to get Jennie, see her, check on her.
The distress from Lisa had worried me.
Frightened me.
There's only so much anyone can ever cope with – and I was, am, so scared she's reaching that limit.
I had called Jennie soon after my husband had spoken to Lisa, informing her that we were picking her up. That I wanted her to come home and rest because I had plans with her tonight.
