Dear First Love,
Sweet Moma, it was always, *always* you.
The one who made ringlets with your fingers from my 3-year old curly, dark brown hair.
The one who took extra time with me when I started going steady with my first boyfriend.
The one who's sound of her walk on the hospital hallway floor I recognized before you made
it to my room every single time, even after there had been a great divide between us. Did I
ever tell you what a comforting reassurance that was for me? I sure Hope so. 💕
It saddens me to this day that through some difficult choices on both of our parts I lost sight
of that for a long, long while.
But when I remembered? You were right there, graciously offering more of your love to me. (Hmmm... that shared holy time of ours still fills me with tears of gratitude.)
I'm thankful we found our way back to one another before you passed to the other side.
And yet I hunger, and at times like today, I ache for so much more. . . Now that I'm older, I
long to hear more about you and your hopes, and fears, and dreams.
Smiling softly because it delights me to no end to hear someone say me they see your
beautifully, kind face in mine.
And I feel deeply comforted and reassured when I, too, catch glimpses of you in the mirror's reflection.
Perhaps you aren't as far away from me as it sometimes feels? Perhaps you never were.
I hope you know how deeply, sincerely, genuinely proud I am to be your daughter.
All my love,
Debbie JoAnn
who is Abidin'
#aprillove2016
(I'm so grateful that there are photos of us together
with me as an adult, too.)
. * .
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