To my children

 To my children,

If you ever come to me with wounds I never meant to give,
you won’t find me turning away.
Not into denial.
Not into blame.
Not into silence.

You’ll find me right here,
arms open,
heart soft,
ready to hear it all.

I will not shrink from your pain.
I will not defend my mistakes.
I will look you in the eye and say,
“I’m sorry you carried what I couldn’t heal.”

You can hand it back to me now.
Every aching piece.
Every heavy part.
I will hold it with you.

Because love doesn’t stop when you grow.
It doesn’t end when you leave the nest.
It stays.
It listens.
It learns.
And it keeps showing up even in the hard conversations.
Especially there.