I've found the mask.
I've touched the edges
and the frayed parts
and the places I decorated
again and again.
what do I do when
but I don't know
Am I supposed to be happy?
Am I supposed to be wiser?
Am I supposed to be...someone else
or exactly the same?
What happens when you break something down
something you spent so long creating?
what happens when the structure is gone
and you feel gone?
or at least, missing.
I'm sure it's in the silence
I'm sure it's in the spaces
I haven't visited in a while
so I wait
a little chilled
from one less layer between me
and the world
I am my mother's child.
I am stubborn.
I (mostly) consider what I'm going to say before I say it.
I have worked too hard and played too little.
I have cried when things got to be too much.
I cry when I'm angry.
I only reveal it all to certain beloveds.
I raise my eyebrow at people.
I am scared of thunderstorms.
My mother has not always been who I wanted her to be.
She wasn't always there. (She didn't know how.)
She doesn't know how to emotionally connect.
She's so far away.
I have learned from her.
I have cried with her.
I have been with her during surgeries and near-deaths.
I have seen her give of herself again and again.
I have seen how I want to do things differently.
I know her choices have been the best she could have made.
At the time.
I am stronger for so much of it.
I am also broken in ways that I am still trying to mend.
I love my mom.
I miss being able to drive over to her house.
But distance is kinder.
Perspective is wiser.
I celebrate her.
In all of her flaws.
Because I have some of them.
Someday, I hope to be a mom too.
And it's because of her that I don't feel rushed.
That (sometimes) I feel ready.
Because of her love,
In all of its twists and turns,
I am the woman I am,
And continue to become.