What breathes life into you?
Mine is:
My son’s two tooth grin
The rustling of sheets when he’s crawling towards me to wake me up
The bing of a text message back when you have found another layer beneath
rock bottom
Words coming together when you have misplaced yourself in the pile of
dirty laundry
dirty dishes
and the idea that you are supposed to uphold
the tidiest, most polished version
of yourself, at all times.
“I’m proud of you.”
“I’m here for you.”
A poem coming together.
kgc 