Grit

Waves crash, scour, and sweep.
Today: smiles, stickyface, jokes, pretending, mudsquishing, gunshooting, awe, squirming, tickling, total tantrum.
I am the sand between sea and shore, buffetted.
Bashed.
Stroked.
Smashed.
And scultped into something beautiful, strong, strange, and true.
A mother.

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