identity
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The walls remember every version of her—the tears, the coffee, the restless nights, and the woman who kept figuring out what came next.
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The ocean lives in her like inheritance—salt, tide, ache, and the pull toward places that feel older than memory.
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Some feelings live between grief, longing, relief, and fear—too complicated for one word and too real to ignore.
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An unfinished sentence becomes a declaration of everything survival, grief, motherhood, and becoming have made her.
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Survival changed her enough to feel unfamiliar, but the woman in the mirror is finally someone she can recognize with pride.
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She is not only what happened to her; she is every scar, lesson, mistake, and second chance that kept moving forward.
Between Bruises & Blooms 