In the passing of my mother




I hope you remember mornings like this. Mornings where I covered you in kisses as the sun came up just because you were still enough, and close enough. Mornings where I shockingly climbed into your second story bed to sing "happy birthday" in your ear. Mornings where you got out of bed and said it was freezing and climbed right under my blankets with me for 20 more minutes. Mornings where we watched the sun rise through my thrift-shopped, lace curtains and sang nursery rhymes with our hands in the air doing the motions to"twinkle-twinkle". I hope you remember. Because moments like that with my mother sustained me. Through abuse. Through loss. Through abandonment. Through anger. It was moments like this that overpowered every other moment she and I had. Moments where I slept by her side and I tucked neatly under one arm. Moments where I knew, no matter how broken she was, deep down she desperately loved me.

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