on the days i miss her most

I can remember watching my mom take off her wig at the end of some days and how she’d just stare at her reflection.

Of course being as young as I was I didn’t understand fully what breast cancer was doing to her or why she had to put her hair on her head

But what I do remember was thinking how beautiful she looked when she stood there-bare and exposed.

How I wish I could travel back to that exact moment as the adult I am now and just hug her-and thank her for indirectly teaching me to love the bare and exposed parts of myself

For those parts are where the hidden meanings are waiting to be found…

2 thoughts on “on the days i miss her most

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