And then she grew up

Mama, why do I feel so alone?
Sometimes, you are too big for the world. You are full, too full, full to the eyes.
Then why do I feel so empty?
Sometimes, you are too big for yourself, too.
I don’t know what to do.
Pick up your tears and your knees and make a mosaic out of your pieces.
Try again.
Again?
Again and again and again.

Keep one hand in a fist, but leave the other open
to the birds,
to the sky,
to someone you haven’t met.
Give and give and give,
but don’t be afraid to take.
You are the first, the only, the priority.
You are yours.

And always carry a needle and thread,
so when you break hearts, you can stitch them up as best you can.

I don’t want to break hearts, Mama.
I know. 
Believe me, my darling, I know.

But don’t give up.
Sing with the car windows down and
cut your hair too short and
wear the wrong shade of lipstick and
dance in your unfashionable shoes and
say I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
You are stardust.
You are a contradiction.
You are the rain and the rainbow,
deadly and gentle,
fire and ice.
You are the bird in your hand,
unsure.

And change. Every beautiful moment, change.

How do I love, Mama? 
Too much, too soon, too fiercely.
With hope and tears and
everything you have.

How do I live, Mama? Mama, how do I live?

I don't know. I don't know, I don't know.

“Oh, but my darling, 
there are so many ways.”