After she left for work in the morning, I would sometimes sneak out to high school wearing a pair of her platform sandals. They were back in her closet when she got home.
That's me at seven—my First Communion. The white lace mini-dress must have raised a few eyebrows.
The little girl pudge around my middle melts my heart.
My mother and I are having profound conversations lately. We're getting to know each other.
It took a long time. Don't sweat it. Most especially don't force it. Love yourself always.
She did something to liberate me at a young age—put me on the pill with my father screaming bloody murder.
Stood up to him to protect me.
A few days ago I asked her why she did it, and she said,
I wanted you to be free.