I come from the street. I am raw. I am real. I am a Beloved Warrior.
And so are the mothers in this story.
Beloved Warriors know how to take what tried to break us and turn it into love. We carry it, we reshape it, we pass it forward softer than we received it. I met a woman at the post office this morning. A stranger. Or maybe not a stranger at all. She was mailing a stuffed monkey across miles and memory, from Toronto to Winnipeg, all the way from a story that began in Japan. A small act. A big love.
It is for her 83 year old mother. A mother who never asks for anything. A mother who has been quietly watching, quietly loving, quietly living. Now she is receiving something just for her.
I do not know this woman. But I love her mother.
I am a mother. She is a mother. Her mother is a mother.
Beloved Warriors, all of us.
Watch this moment. This is what love looks like when it travels.
Happy Mother’s Day/Week 🌞 🩷 🐒