Mending
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Joy can be ordinary enough to serve for breakfast: small, messy, sweet, and gone before you realize you needed it.
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The harm did not come from some abstract darkness; it had a familiar face, a familiar voice, and choices that belonged to you.
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Becoming means naming who she is now without softening it, and deciding which old versions no longer get to come along.
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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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While adults count scars and hard days, a child finds music in an ordinary afternoon and dances anyway.
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The last time she saw them becomes a scene memory keeps replaying, searching ordinary details for the goodbye it did not recognize yet.
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Myst knows nothing about the past; she only knows these hands are gentle, this bed is warm, and closing her eyes here is safe.
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An unfinished sentence becomes a declaration of everything survival, grief, motherhood, and becoming have made her.
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Love did not end in one dramatic moment; it wore down slowly until the sentence finally learned where to stop.
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Home stops being a place when one person becomes the quiet safety every road had been trying to lead toward.
Between Bruises & Blooms 