I don't understand why she doesn't understand. She has always been a pillar of strength. Goodness. The pure kind, the kind that has always felt like a magnet to me. The kind that you long to be near for fear someday you might fall over from the weight of your burdens. She has always been there, not a minute too late, and without condition. Poised, primed, with a confident veneer that begs to be broken but only surfaces in the quiet nights alone in bed - when no one can hear her cry and she can let go of carrying the weight of the world for everyone else.
Don't be fooled by her flawless complexion and her smooth silky hair. She has shed her skin more times with more experience, more darkness and more triumph than most. She is brave, she is humble, and she has more maternal instinct than plenty of mothers I know. Talented, wise, full of wit and an infectious energy surrounds her. She is a complete package to most, and admired by many. But yet, she still carries more weight than she owns.
One day, she will wipe the sweat off the mirror and see the woman she has become the way the rest of us do. Confident, poised, beautiful, wise, compassionate, articulate and most of all full of potential to create her niche of warmth and beauty anywhere she goes, to make a difference, to change lives, to embrace and take control of her life with optimism and determination. She will find her compass, and take chances, she will stumble and get back up. She'll wipe the dirt off her face, and the pebbles off her knees, sweep the hair from her face and smile at the world, because she has epitomized - she will have found, her Grace.
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