stone and tree

I have never felt so strongly the connection to my family than I have recently.

I see myself in the hard, strong lines in my mother’s face. I have my mother’s hands, her skin. My mother has always been connected to the sun; it draws her and gives her energy, it repairs her and opens her unlike anything I have ever seen. And this love is rooted in me. The sun is part of my mother, and I have part of the sun in me.

My mother and my grandmother drink their coffee ritualistically. They save all their money, they shop only at Goodwill and still dress better than everyone. They love. They pour love. And in the most firm and unconditional way. They are stone.

My grandmother is made of an invaluable stone. She has lost so much.

My heart flutters and my eyes water when I think of this family tree, the huge and unmoving trunk that you cannot even wrap your arms around. It is not prone to destruction or affectation by anything on the planet, anything in the galaxy. This tree is all I have, and here I know my self.


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