Resilience
-
While adults count scars and hard days, a child finds music in an ordinary afternoon and dances anyway.
-
Myst knows nothing about the past; she only knows these hands are gentle, this bed is warm, and closing her eyes here is safe.
-
An unfinished sentence becomes a declaration of everything survival, grief, motherhood, and becoming have made her.
-
Home stops being a place when one person becomes the quiet safety every road had been trying to lead toward.
-
A refusal to inherit someone else’s rage, shrink into their story, or teach her children that love should ever sound like fear.
-
A repeating cycle of hurt, apology, hope, and return finally breaks when she stops waiting for the next apology to save it.
-
Some wars leave no bruises—only sleepless nights, self-doubt, and a battlefield built inside the mind.
-
Courtrooms count paperwork and allegations; motherhood keeps counting lullabies, scraped knees, and all the care no file can hold.
-
Truth was once used like a threat; now she lets it stand on its own without giving fear the final word.
-
A woman sits beneath a flood of cruelty and realizes the person someone is trying to break has already survived far worse storms.
Between Bruises & Blooms 