These veins

These veins,
they bleed stories of survival.

My wounds do not weep;
they harden.

I will not tear open the scars
that prove I have healed.

I will collect them,
for they are my stories to tell.

They keep my heart soft
and let my soul triumph.

Monarch

He is the monarch that cannot change his opinion once he has made up his mind. He expresses his thoughts eloquently, owing to the amount of forethought and preparation he has put into them. He may spend his life putting his head first, but that does not imply he cannot articulate his heart: he is governed by his actions, and still, he is a master of his words. 

Yesterdays

Yesterday, I got to spend over an hour on the phone with each of my adult children — real conversations, full of laughter, honesty, stories, memories, and love. Every single moment felt like a gift I never want to take for granted.

As a mother, there is nothing more beautiful than realizing your children still want to share their lives with you once they’ve grown. That they still call. Still talk. Still let you into their hearts.

With Mother’s Day only days away, I’m sitting here overwhelmed with gratitude. Not for perfection, but for connection. For trust. For love that has grown deeper with time.

I don’t know what I did to deserve a day like yesterday, but I know this: I have never felt more lucky, more loved, or more thankful to be their mom. 

…as if I was prey

I offered grace to those who gnawed at it, confusing my softness with weakness, as if I was prey.

I cut them off, my blade simply severed the damage they already inflicted. 

Where to begin..

Dad,

I don’t even know where to begin, because there aren’t enough words to hold everything you are to me.

You are strength in its truest form, not just in what you’ve endured, but in how you’ve lived. An Army Ranger, a fighter, a man who has faced more than most ever will… and still, somehow, you’ve remained gentle, present, and full of life. You’ve carried the weight of so much - your health, your battles, your scars - and yet you still show up every single day as a loving husband, a devoted father, and the best papa anyone could ask for.

You are a rare kind of man. You can do anything, build, cook, write, lead, and you do it all with a quiet confidence that commands respect without ever demanding it. You walk into a room and change it, not because you try to, but because of who you are. And that laugh of yours… it’s one of my favorite sounds in the world.

You’ve always been there for me. Steady. Strong. Loving. You are the one I go to for everything; for advice, for truth, for clarity. You’ve never let me walk through this world blindly, and you’ve never let me settle for less than I deserve. You’ve protected me in ways I don’t even think you fully realize.

And maybe this is selfish… but I don’t want to imagine this life without you in it. I don’t want a world where I can’t call you, where I can’t hear your voice, where I don’t have you to go to when I need guidance or when life feels too heavy. You’re not just my dad, you are my foundation. You are my safe place.

I know you’re tired. I know you’ve been through more than most people could even imagine. And I know you don’t want more procedures, more hospitals, more fighting. But I need you to know how deeply you are loved. How much you matter, not just for everything you’ve done, but for who you are just by being here.

I don’t know what comes next, and that’s the hardest part. But what I do know is this: having you as my dad is one of the greatest blessings of my life. You have shaped me, protected me, and loved me in a way that I will carry forever.

You are the standard for every man in my life. No one compares. No one ever will.

I love you more than I could ever fully say… and I’m not ready to let you go.

But more than anything, I want whatever gives you peace, strength, and more time with us, because every moment with you is something I will never take for granted.

but because maybe…

What we give isn’t always reciprocated. And we tell ourselves that’s okay, because that’s just who we are. We are the givers; the sanctuaries, the warm hugs, the tenderness in a world full of cruelty. We are the warriors for the weak, the lyrics to the song a lost soul needed to hear.

We are not here to fill voids, we are here to make strangers feel seen and heard. We are the smile, the kindness for the downtrodden, the last glimmer of hope for those ready to let go.

Still, we cling to love with quiet ferocity. We press our faces to the glass, watching others fall into it; waiting, wishing, wanting, hoping, dreaming of the day when the love we give is freely given to us. We wait, and we wait, with the blind faith of a child.

But I won’t let this world change my heart. I won’t let my failures tear me apart. I will keep giving, not because I have to, but because I have it to give. Not because I expect it in return, but because maybe… loving others is the point.

My branches stopped growing, because my roots needed to grow deeper first.