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4:58 p.m.

It is the thing I like most about being my mother,
Moreso than sly manipulations that everyone says we’re bad at
(And yet somehow what needs to change still changes)
More than our brittle public facade
Mine is never painted on, but it is still there
More than our will to slot everyone’s jigsawed parts together

It’s shaking out my curls,
and declaring a loud okay,
where the o carries through the house like a battlecry
where if I can just remember that I can conjure strength
by the mere declaration
that all will be right in the world.

-Battlecry of Mother's Day

I forget who I am all the time. I think this is my worst trait.

Clotho - Atropos - Previous Chapters

Book(s) of the Moment

I have not read any of these, but desire to shortly. I will remove and add eclectically

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