I wear brass earrings against my brunette. I like it, the bits of trying at the 7 week mark after a baby, when the adrenaline runs out. I’ve been at this steep cliff before – Postpartum.
For now I smile at it, sit at the edge among roses, looking down. I’m good, but I cringe at what sometimes feels like mother vertigo.
Once in a while I’m suddenly, nauseatingly afraid of the garbage disposal. A Corona commercial makes me cry. Tender, I wear lace.
So I pendulum swing. Leather tough. I’m a Mama of 4 boys, all testosterone thumping. I can be so hard. I’ll teach you perseverance.
What does it mean to be tender and unafraid? Like silk, durable. Like metal, malleable.
A mother’s conflicting selves, the rose and her thorns, can cause the push and pull that send her in directions she never thought she could go.
I can’t believe how good this life is that I never would have chosen, how many cliffs I’ve edged -such sturdy feet, such a galloping mind.
lace tank:: Forever 21
skinny jeans:: GAP
military boots:: Nine West
soft floral socks:: Free People