Sarah

How could you be a mother?
I am not a mother.

You were 12 when I met you, looking out at the snow-filled forest,
up to the mountains, full of confidence.
You never seemed to waver, stood strong like the trees before you.
I envied that.

Now you mother two beautiful girls, you engage
in it, you breathe it.

It is strange at once for me, but fascinating,
riveting. I read your elegant stories about your daily
challenges. I see the strong hand and soft heart.

I long for the experience, but knowing it's
behind me, I embrace yours.