I will mother. And weep. And cheer. And worry. And be proud. And hold fast. And let go.
I will carry my own baggage until the day comes when I should unpack it and put it all away.
I will attempt madly to give the best parts of myself.
I will count the fruits of my labors and know that sometimes they come out of pain and leave scars. Sometimes they come only after the plow has carved a wide space in the land.
I will move forward without looking back.
I will never forget what is behind me. Who is behind me.
I will be grateful for you. Because without you, I wouldn’t be me.
I will package myself. Decorate and dress up this body to put you on with all I’ve put on.
I will strip it all away and be myself.
I will not whisper my story. I will sing it. I will write it. I will capture it in every instant.
I will wear my story on my sleeve and scream it at the top of my voice.
It’s a good story.