Beautiful Broken Pieces

Your little face plays host to such complex emotions now.  When you tell me you're angry, you mean it.  Your cheeks flush, your fists clench, you level your tiny little frame towards me in that bittersweet way little girls level against their mamas sometimes and you dig in for the fight.  And you feel it baby girl.  I have no idea what to do with that passion.  I thought I would have more time to search for the right answers before you would start striking me with waves of questions and 'what ifs' and 'but whens'.  

Right now I doubt I am even truly competent to answer our littlest girl's incessant pleads of 'why?'

I don't know why.

Maybe there is no right answer to why or true answer to when. 

You are still young and free enough to lash out and run and fight against me and anything else you disagree with.  When I gather you up in my arms, I try to control your fight because it's proper and correct and expected of us.  But if I'm honest my loves?  Sometimes I want to just let you be free.  

Free.

There may come another, later day when you are older and grow tired of your mama and want to break free again but please keep these lessons close.  

You're going to always be beautiful because we are all born beautiful and you are certainly no exception.  You were born honest and whole and will remain perfect just as you are.  Just as you are, as we all are.  No more and no less.  You can never be damaged beyond repair.  Ever.  Life is a long string of lessons but learning them never diminishes your value.

Nothing you do will ever make me love you any more or any less.  And just the same, you will always be a work in progress.  That's the point of this mess.  Keep working, keep pushing and most of all, keep loving.  Loving will never steer you wrong.