To My Parents…

My dad calls me his warrior princess, his little force of nature, born from a storm of chaos and order. My mom, she calls me Pookie. She was the first land I called home and every day she reminds me that unconditional love is real. My parents are two of the most beautiful souls. And as time moves forward and we grow old together, I become more aware of their flaws, more aware of what makes them human; and in turn, I love them even more.

In my twenty-three years of life, they have watched with eager eyes the phases of my being. They have always known the curious, blue eyed little girl who felt torn between the solace of structure and the magnificent, tragic mess of creativity. They have seen an older blue eyed girl drown under the weight of her self-destruction. And they have bravely submerged their hands under the water to pull her back to life in the moments when resurfacing felt impossible. The process was never perfect, but always brought us newfound strength and understanding.

I so clearly remember a day when the darkness in my mind felt entrenching and the moments between the minutes felt inescapably unbearable. Loneliness had taken ahold of my lungs and thoughts of the past made breathing so incredibly painful. My mother, she told me that “although the past is filled with beautiful chapters you may miss right now, you must move forward, because this is not the end of your story.” Her love showed me the light I could not see. She is my north star in the pitch black. And when the heavy night passes, we watch the sun rise and smile together as proof that brighter times exist.

My father gifted me with the eagerness to search for solutions to the problems that plague the world. But unlike him, the problems I first encountered worth solving were located in my heart and mind. I drove myself crazy looking for understanding to something that seemed to be constantly evolving and shifting shape, something that was always just out of my reach. And although my father did not understand at first, he searched for solutions to my problems in his own way, and thus, together we took hold of the things that once felt impossibly unreachable. He is my hero, my superman, and in his arms I find the greatest peace a daughter could ever know.

I am my mothers child, my fathers daughter. I yearn for the spontaneity my mother possesses and I seek the structure that my father so patiently constructs a marvelous life with. The blood that runs through my veins was crafted by two humans with hours of love, laughter, growth, and learning. And because of that, I am endowed with beauty and a foundation I call home in two spectacular souls.