Next to ‘strength’ in my dictionary
is a diagram of my mother’s heart.
She is unwavering, unflinching, unbreakable.
The character to which I measure myself.
The mold which I squirm around in.
The strength I aspire to.
I watched her face contort
as she listened to my sister’s worries.
Her heart wavered.
I caught her as a tear rolled down her face
at the music lamenting the loss of her soul mate.
Her heart flinched.
I saw her cry in front of me
as she asked why I cried alone.
Her heart broke.
And just like that,
I saw a piece of my heart,
embedded within her own.