I could tell her about the paper cut hurts - the annoying kind that burn. The ones you notice and can still walk away from.
I could tell her about the oozing hurts. The ones that fester for months. The hurts that are fragile and ugly. The hurts that leave behind pink, uneven scars that you can name after people or places or years.
I could tell her about the broken. The broken hearts and spirits and plans. The broken pieces that won’t fit back together in the perfect way you want.
I could tell her about all of the times she’ll have to start over. I could tell her about how rocky the starting line feels under her toes, and I could tell her about how she’ll never get used to it.
I could tell her about loss. Her dog. Her grandpa. Her husband. Her way.
I could tell her about every single valley and every single fire and every single sleepless night and every single tear. I could show her a map of her heart at 16, 26, and 36 and watch the confusion roll through her blue eyes. I could show her the deserts and watch as she drags her fingers through the sand.
And the rescues.
I could tell her about the times she rescued herself and the times she clung tightly to others. I could tell her about her little boy and I could tell her about Jesus.
I could hand her journal after journal and tell her to read it all. To make notes in the margins - to create her own guide.
Do this, sweet girl, I could tell her.
Turn right on this day, baby.
I could whisper in her ear and tell her about the holes and the rain coming.
She could avoid all of the ugly. And all of the angry. And all of the shattered glass.
But ... if I could tell her everything,
If I could go back to this second grader, and if I could stand next to her at this football game for a second, I would just put my hand on her shoulder.
I would laugh with her and I would tell her without a hint of uncertainty -
It is so good.
It is so good.
It is just so good.
Even with the despair.
Even with the lonely.
Even with the tired.
I would tell her that her tomorrows are even brighter than she could ever even imagine.
. About Moi .
I love, love, love flannel sheets and I am really passionate about lists on post it notes and most of the time I'm sad that no one else is as excited as I am about Diet Mountain Dew. I also adore run-on sentences. And if you need an awesome virtual assistant, who is full of personality and really good jokes? Email me. I'm your girl.
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He saw her before he saw
anything else in the room.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald
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