My girls were loving me back whole. “I just feel blessed,” I said. “I am so blessed to have you all right here.” And I began to cry a river of cleansing tears. “I’m good,” I said. That was the breakthrough they had been waiting for. My daughters had let me feel sorry for myself long enough, and now in this moment of emotional clarity they wanted me to know what they’d known the whole time: “Mama, you’re a bad bitch,” said Solange. “A bad bitch,” repeated Beyoncé and Angie in unison. “The baddest,” said Kelly, with attitude. “Period.” They reminded me I had too much going on for me to feel my
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