Gentle hands caressing the hair of my future generations, their heads gently laying in my lap, tears wetting my legs. They're safe. Whimpers and fears falling down their cheeks, they wonder if they're strong enough for this. They're safe. They tell me they're unsure they tell me they're afraid. I tell them they're safe. They want to know the reasons-- what is the purpose of the obstacles, the purpose of the struggle, the hustle? My hands caress their cheeks as I kiss their foreheads. My lovely child, can I tell you how strong you are? Can I tell you how much it sucks to have to be this strong? Can I tell you that you are everything I wanted to be in my living days? Can I tell you that every reason eventually shows itself, but the patience doesn't feel like a virtue? Can I tell you that it sucks to have to go through it? Believe me, I was there. I cried just as hard as you do now as I struggled to find my way out of the maze. But I am here, mije. I am here to hug and nurture I am here to wipe these tears away. When I'm here, you can be the child you are told to no longer be When I'm here, you can feel as small as you need to be with no judgement When I'm here, you don't have to be traditionally strong. For your vulnerability is a different strength. One that others fear but I cherish. Purge yourself of these tears wrap yourself in my blanket arms. Remember, here, you are safe. Take your time finding your legs again, take your time wiping off your fears. When you're ready, we'll survive together.