Mom

I'm running.
Flying.
Heart beating, feet pounding.
Not from something, but to.
It holds its arms to catch me, and I run into them.
The warmth of the embrace frees me.
The love in that smile feeds me.
The confidence in that encouragement seizes me.
And I cry.
To the outside world, I'm fearless.
Tearless.
Careless.
But she knows better.
After all, I am her daughter.

Comments

Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda

Powerful expression!