I’ll Call You Mama

Love, soulfood

I’ve been very conscious of the human tendency to dwell in the bad. To embody pessimism. To forget all of the good times.

Now while I’m driving, which is always, I try to think of more. To remember those sweet times.

When you force fed me milkshakes that dark anorexic summer. When you pulled one by one the cactus needles out of my screaming five year old flesh. All of the you are my sunshine lullabies.

How many nail polishes that I slipped into the shopping cart that you pretended not to notice. The pies, the breads the resounding hugs that kept me whole those few crushing times.

The day seven years ago when the whole hospital flashed, alarmed and panicked, all that mattered was your eye contact, your forced this is totally normal. All of the times that I have brushed up against rock bottom and your presence reminded me- you’re not alone, you’ve got this.

The space for my own expectations, my own me, authentically who I need to be in all of my seasons. The irrelevance of your opinion: gift or curse, I can’t be sure.

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