I shot awake during the wee hours of the morning on Thursday, finding myself in a total panic—tears streaming down my face, my heart aching in pain yet racing as though I’d just seen a ghost.
My mom was alive.
I shot awake during the wee hours of the morning on Thursday, finding myself in a total panic—tears streaming down my face, my heart aching in pain yet racing as though I’d just seen a ghost.
My mom was alive.
Dear Sunshine,
Two years ago on Valentine’s Day I started a post dedicated to you, but I never quite finished it. I don’t know if it’s because I couldn’t find the courage or the right timing, or if I simply wasn’t entirely confident in how I wanted to go about writing something so important to me—to perfectly embody all that you are.
And tonight it hit me: It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be from the heart. Everything you do shines from your heart.
So, here’s how the post began: