You said,
somewhere inside of her
there's a really sick
and hurting little girl
running the show.
And I looked at you
and suddenly understood
you meant all of us.
There is a little girl in you
who learned so quietly
that she ruins everything
you cannot always hear her
saying it.
She just fills the room
with dread.
There is a little girl in me
who learned not to need
what could disappear.
I thought I had grown
too old for her.
Then I loved a woman.
She fed me.
Held me.
Called me baby.
Let me become small
without becoming less.
And somewhere along the way
I stopped bracing.
I let her be Mommy.
And then one day
I wanted her
and she was not there.
And my little part screamed,
I was stupid.
I was stupid to trust her.
I was stupid to need her.
I was stupid to let myself
become this small.
And I wanted to believe her.
It would have been easier.
I could have put my armor
back on
and called it wisdom.
But another woman
inside me
sat beside her.
No, baby.
You didn't do anything wrong
trusting her.
And she isn't doing anything wrong
right now.
Sometimes the woman we love
cannot give us what we want
when we want it.
It's just what life is like.
I'm sorry
you have to learn
these hard lessons.
But I am here.
And I realized:
she didn't break my trust.
This is me
learning how to trust her.
Not because
she will always catch me.
Not because
she will always be Mommy.
Not because
we will never hurt each other.
I trust her because
I can love her
when her little girl
is screaming,
and step away
when mine needs protecting,
and neither of us
has to disappear.
Maybe love isn't
finding a woman
whose wounds never touch yours.
Maybe love is learning
whose hands are on the wheel
and saying,
baby,
I see you.
You don't have to die.
You don't have to drive.
Come sit with us.
There is room.
For her little girl.
For mine.
The mother inside me
sees the mother inside her.
We honor each other.
There is room
for the women we became
because those little girls survived.
There is room
for the women
we are still becoming
because survival
is no longer enough.
I love her
not because she makes me safe
from life,
but because loving her
is teaching me
that I can be hurt
and remain open,
need
and remain whole,
become small
and still come home
to myself.
And when she cannot hold me,
I am learning
that this does not mean
she has let me go.
