I watch her closely.
Sadness engulfs her.

Her eyes glassy, her mind twisted, her heart breaking.

I offer a shoulder.
She turns away.

What do I know?
I’m old. I don’t understand. I’m mom.

What she doesn’t know is I’ve been there.
Watching her, I’m 16 again…, 32 again…, 40 again.

My heart breaking…
Over and over.

I want her to experience love.
The safety and sheltering from protective arms.
Feeling the depth of a soul through a gaze.
The euphoria of breathing life from another.

But I so want her heart protected from what she doesn’t know.
And she’s learning on her own.

It kills me to see her this way.
It kills me to relive the emotions I see in her.

She doesn’t know.

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