Growing Together

Discipline feels like a heavy backpack

I carry even when my feet are tired.

Rosibella is a little whirlwind,

her laughter spinning through the rooms,

her questions like sparks lighting up everything.

Some days patience slips through my fingers

like water I cannot hold.

Other days I let things slide

because my mind feels crowded

and my heart too full.

Every choice I make

stares back at me

like a mirror I cannot look away from.

Voices always linger around me,

shadows whispering,

too strict, too soft, never enough.

I think about my mother now

and I see her shadow behind me,

carrying her own heavy backpack,

full of doubt, love, and quiet courage.

I am learning

to move beside Rosibella,

not ahead of her, not behind her,

to stumble with her and rise with her.

We grow like trees,

roots tangled together,

reaching for the sun

even on cloudy days.

And maybe

that is enough.