my grandmother
says part of being human means
bits of her belong
to the people around her..
I think when we love,
we bleed together
like watercolor –
not in a way that diminishes
our individuality,
but that enhances, shapes and inspires who we are
to feel embraced enough in the world,
to truly show up..
and maybe even have the courage to
let ourselves be loved..
my grandmother
is fiercely independent with a fire in her heart
unlike anyone I’ve ever met..
and yet
I find myself in love
with how she belongs to me
and how I belonged to her
since my first breath
and will continue to
forever.