“Oh. Um . . . they kind of go hand in hand. I loved phoenixes when I was little. You know, because they represent rebirth and hope? I guess I was fascinated by them because of what my mom did to us and I wanted to show that I’d withstood the ashes her abandonment left behind.” I trace the tattoo with my finger. “The cross represents life and hope, too. And it reminds me that Christ is the One who pulled me from those ashes.” My throat tightens with emotion.
