Still Coming Home:
A Quiet Journey of Healing and Breath
For my mother, whose kindness still teaches me how to breathe.
The Cup
I once gave her a cup printed with our picture (picture of me and mom); my small gesture of love on an ordinary day.
She kept it carefully, using it only when she felt well, as though preserving the moment inside it. And, she used to show it fondly, to relatives and visitors, who visited her.
After she passed, I found it again. In the kitchen cabinet, where she kept safely.
The image was faded, but the warmth was still there.
That cup became my anchor, proof that love leaves traces that outlast the body.
Pause and breathe — what stirred within you?
Notes / What I Felt:
I hold the cup when missing her feels sharp.
Love endures beyond form.
Memories can be tangible.
She loved me, alot …
No comments:
Post a Comment