Petals and Cake

I savor their smooth, enchanting feel as I delicately pull more from the white basket, whispering them through my fingers.

Be Still. Grace.

She wore happiness like her favorite dress.

I dug up my ghosts, shook them loose from the earth—less clinging to me, more uplifting.

He feeds me pearls — small gifts from the waters.

But above all, nothing delights me more than discovering my baby girl’s personality and soul.

There is no longer space for rushing, powering through, chin up, or other dishonest ways—pretense and pretend, concave heart.