I am becoming the woman I've wanted, grey at the temples, soft body, delighted, cracked up by life with a laugh that's known bitter but, past it, got better, knows she's a survivor-- that whatever comes, she can outlast it. I am becoming a deep weathered basket.
I am becoming the woman I've longed for, the motherly lover with arms strong and tender, the growing up daughter who blushes surprises. I am becoming full moons and sunrises.
I find her becoming, this woman I've wanted, who knows she'll encompass, who knows she's enough, knows where she's going and travels with passion. Who remembers she's precious, but knows she's not scarce-- who knows she is plenty, plenty to share.
Photo of my sweet daughter: Malia Rock