The day I took it all in, your every move. The softness and fragility of each moment I held you in my arms. The day I was no longer a woman expecting or a woman in labour. The day I was officially “mom”. Faye Milan's mom.
Father, mother, and daughter
I’m sitting here and writing this with one ear lent to my playlist and the other at the mercy of the slightest sound of your breath. My eyes constantly darting from this journal to your bassinet. My arms ready to drop any and everything if a chirp from you orders their embrace.
The lavender lady and me
I spoke to the lavender lady. She said she couldn’t hear me out because I didn’t sound like a bee. She pointed to the ground where her beauty is planted. Then she pointed to her neck tilted sideways to see the sun. We can never follow the light if we don’t hold on to our… Continue reading The lavender lady and me