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I see one-third of a nation ill-housed, ill-clad, ill-nourished.… The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much; it is whether we provide enough for those who have too little. —FRANKLIN D. ROOSEVELT
it was only possible to live without love when you’d never known it.
The love, it comes in the beginning of her life and at the end of yours. God is cruel that way.
“I’m just—” “A mother.”
her grandfather had leaned down and whispered, Be brave, into her ear. And then, Or pretend to be. It’s all the same.
“You are of me, Loreda, in a way
that can never be broken. Not by words or anger or actions or time. I love you. I will always love you.”
“You taught me love. You, first in the whole world, and my love for you w...
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What in the world was more restorative than a child’s love?
“I ain’t a baby.” “You’re my baby,” she said.
That’s what love is, I think. It’s all of it. Tears, anger, joy, struggle. Mostly, it’s durable. It lasts.
“We are the music.”
Love is what remains when everything else is gone.
Love. In the best of times, it is a dream. In the worst of times, a salvation.
A warrior believes in an end she can’t see and fights for it. A warrior never gives up. A warrior fights for those weaker than herself. It sounds like motherhood to me.
Still, she had given them what mattered: they were loved and they knew it. Everything else was decoration. Love remains.
Sometimes it was good to be a woman.
“Moms know everything, kid.”
You are of me, Loreda, in a way that can never be broken. You taught me love. You, first in the whole world, and my love for you will outlive me.
