mosaic

For SZ and baby SZT. This group of women is more than I can describe. I am blessed by your diversity.

Your mom and I once talked about mosaics…it was something that stuck.

She said something like this: we are stained glass that holds its broken bits taught. They catch our light beside yours. We become something stunning. You are hope that flanks this future mosaic little ZT. The spectacular shape we can’t yet make out. A movement beneath skin. A shape in an ultrasound. The end of a camera wandering one part of the whole; inexplicably beautiful. We are built of such pieces. Each reflecting, but only in part. Like sea glass.

There is no way that you can fail to be beauty. For you are the piece in their mosaic yet unborn. You bear this reflection.

I can’t explain the brand of strength that you contribute, having yet to pour your feet onto solid ground, as we have so many times. I imagine that there will be moments when, as a child, or an adult, and especially an old woman, the smallest breath will blow into you; this is glass melting. You are standing inside the frame, touching each edge in chorus. It might not last long, but you will come away from it laughing. And you will leave differently each time. Changed, and with something new to declare.

Maybe there will be moments when you will relate deep into the core of a queen, a gladiator, or a poet, an inventor, or someone incredulously human. You will never be a fool, but there will be times when you may act one. And this could happen often, because you are human. Even as stained glass we are still human. And each time you should take note of that someone that has noticed; significant because they see your truth in pieces yet unshorn.

You will find more sense the further away that you bend from yourself. But don’t stay too sensible, there is beauty in the pieces. There will be questions you’ll need to ask of them. You will fail, you will fall and then you will wiggle your way back up again with the shard still in your hand. And then the breath will enter you, and you will see where inside you it is meant to go.

This is a blessing for the very first breath of you. This is glass blown into something striking. And I am already thankful for you in ways I can’t explain; but with each step as we look backward and find our wisdom in each piece we drop upon the world, one day then we might sit together, and tell each other why.

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