Eleanor & Grey

by Brittainy C. Cherry

“It’s always too soon, baby, but I just want you to know…” She tilted her head in my direction and opened her eyes. “You are my heartbeats. You are my masterpiece. In a way, I feel as if I cheated death, because I get to live on within you, in your smile, in your laugh, in your heart. I’m there for it all, Eleanor. I’m eternal because of you. So please, do all the things. Take risks. Find adventures. Keep living for me and know that it has been the greatest honor being your mother. I am so lucky to have loved you.”

That was the very minute I knew I loved him—when I was broken-hearted at four in the morning and he still showed up for me. Even though he hadn’t said it, I was certain he loved me, too. People didn’t have to talk about love to know it existed. Love wasn’t only real because someone said it out loud. No, love just kind of sat there quietly, in the shadows of the night, healing the cracks that lived in our hearts.

We were still broken, and cracked, and growing and learning. We were mistakes and perfection, flowing streams and hurricanes.