I hold in my hand The photograph This small, square, thin paper The colors match the day I became a mother

It feels like so many years My body has changed Face more wrinkled The shape of the baby Is no longer the shape of a baby

With every passing day This photo stares at me From the fridge of our new home Well, no longer new But to the girl in this picture It would be

When I see her, I think of all the things I didn’t get to do Because new responsibilities Take priority

I always wanted to go to England See the Globe Theater Go to Spain And speak Catalan with the natives Or take a plane ride to Well, anywhere.

This picture reminds me Of everything sacrificed And everything won

Love.

Brave comes in many forms. It can be in the body of a toddler who climbs the big tree after he fell the first time or in the shape of a soldier who took a bullet in the arm for one of his fellow fighters. The most important aspect of bravery is doing something despite how terrifying the situation of how uncomfortable it can be.

When I was young, I called you drunk You were angry about my childlike mouth “I’m your father! Don’t talk to me that way!” You would say Over and over I thought I did wrong Because I didn’t know anything, right? I never did it again With every gulp, you got worse Transparent empty bottles filled our garbage cans But what would I know? You’re the adult I’m the child