Open letter to my daughter, I wrote these words for you, my girl. So that you may always know your mother, your Grandmother, your Great Grandmother and your Great-Great Grandmother. So that you will never forget their faces, never forget their love, their flaws and their connections. You are born of a long line of strong women. Strong daughters know their mothers tales, strong daughters know their mothers are deeply flawed, strong daughters know their mothers are, first and foremost, women. These stories are yours. They flow in your veins, they are in the shape of your eyes, the wave of your hair, the curve of your hips and the impudence of your tongue. They are in the lightness of your steps, in the tone of your voice, in the delicate structure of your hands. When you look at your hands, you will see my hands, and my mothers hands, and her mothers hands; and when you look at your daughters hands you will see them reflected there, a perfect copy of your own and those that came before you. Those small, fine bones will go on, long after mine and yours are dead and buried, those small delicate hands, so full of the strength of the women who passed them on like an heirloom brooch. You carry with you our blessings and our curses. We are a hot headed lot, your fire burns, soft and steady, for now. I see it there, waiting for you, growing slowly, awakening in its own time. There is a hidden fear in your eyes of things you do not yet understand, things that lay buried inside you, things you did not ask for, things you did not want, things the matriarchal ghosts press upon you regardless. But we are not sorry. Some day you will come to love these imperfections, these tempestuous curses, and you will add your own, passing them on to your daughters. Memories are precious. They connect us back to our beginnings and they keep us alive long after our bodies have turned to dust. The histories of this world don't care so much for the trivialities of women. And yet where would this world be without us? Never forget your mothers. Never forget you were loved. Your mother,
Reason for writing:
because yes, everything I write IS about love....in one form or another....
Birth sign: Scorpio
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