wholeness

IMG_5059
I’m on my way to bed, but I leave the hall light on for a moment to tiptoe into her room.  Every night I do this right before bed, sneak into their rooms one last time, my light kiss on the head a prayer to the universe to keep them always safe.

On impulse, this night, I climb into her bed and curl my body around her sleeping form.  Her long legs are tangled in the sheets and her thumb has just fallen from her mouth, a little girl habit held onto only at bedtime.   I press my lips to her hair and breathe deeply.  She smells of chlorine and sweat and little girl summer and the plea leaps, unbidden, into my mind.

I have broken so many things along this journey. Please, please don’t let her be one of them.

And for the millionth time I make a silent promise to be better, more patient, more loving, every last little thing she deserves.  My only hope that she will find herself whole at the end.

SUBSCRIBE NOW

Are you ready for prose, poetry, and badass creative inspiration?
I'll email weekly(ish) with words of creativity + love + uncommon sense. 

YOU SHOULD KNOW:
I swear like a sailor, I've been called a word-witch (more than once), I believe whole-heartedly in the power of your voice,  and think words are as necessary as air. I also create courses and programs that will get you writing (for reals). 


You know you want this.