my mothers daughter
I am my mother’s daughter
Or at least I hope to be.
The older I’ve gotten,
& especially now,
I’ve realized more & more who my mother is.
But I’ve also realized how much I don’t know her.
I know that she is smart.
I know that she is beautiful.
I know that she is funny.
I know that she is kind hearted.
I know that she is talented.
& I know that she is strong.
But was she always so strong?
I wish I could know all her moments of weakness. All her struggles. All her defeats, failures, & short comings.
But also know her comebacks, her revivals, & her survival of her life this far.
Because our lowest moments are what defines us. How we handled it. What is was that broke us down to that level.
& most importantly:
how we rose above it.
Because how can we measure a person with only their good qualities & still gain a wholistic understanding of that person.
A knowledge with breeds:
sympathy, empathy, apathy.
Full, unbiased love.
Because how can I truly know my mother without knowing these things?