Baby Steps on Broken Glass

I was married just before my 19th birthday. She was born when I was 21 and broken…

I loved her with a shattered heart and tried hard to hide all the glass. When she started to crawl, she couldn’t avoid the invisible shards – they embedded in her soul.

When she took her first baby steps, my brokeness pierced her tiny feet. As she has grown, I have grown. I have spent the sum total of her life picking the invisible and inviscerating splinters out of her heart and mine.

I couldn’t hide the scars, even if I tried. But I no longer hide the glass. Now we see it and nod knowingly, with tenderness and hope; my girl and I.

This day, once again I drove hours to her college town. Long I have driven through the years to repair, to reach out, to restore, to recover that which was lost, stolen or given away for her, for me, for us.

We went for lunch at a smashing vegan place. Over green things, we hoped and remembered. She recalls and reminds me that many years ago, we were so poor that I pulled weeds for an elderly lady for $10. That gave us milk, eggs, and bread – that day we left a $10 tip.

Never will I forget, never. Never will she either, I reckon. We are rememberers…

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