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.

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