“Mommy, it hurts.”
I wish I could tell her that it stops.
But it never does.
Instead, they migrate from the bones to the heart.
From the physical to the emotional.
These growing pains.
Just when we think we’re done . . .
There they are.
To remind us that we aren’t yet done.
Growing, that is.
And when you think of it that way, it makes sense.
Perhaps instead of dreading
We should welcome the pains.
Peel back that layer
And discover what comes next . . .
Written while listening to Cover Bombs (Odesza Remix) by Nomadic Firs