Three figures reflected in the bathroom mirror. The image catches my attention, and I pause to take a look. My eyes tender with a mother’s love as I gaze upon my babies.
I catch my oldest looking at herself. The expression on her face critical. Oh, love. If I could only give you the insight I have now as I have weathered a few more years than you. Don’t be critical. You have my mother’s nose. That nose has survived generations. That nose has lived many lives. You should worship that nose.
The history of her body is a mathematical miracle. Think about the statistics! Some family lines are lost forever. They didn’t reproduce.
It’s the generations who came before us, those who survived and lived to tell the tale, that we owe. Because they woke up every day. They weathered the highs and the lows. They lived. Their story is intertwined with ours.
I can tell you beautiful and tragic stories about their lives. Sure, they might be dramatized. Sure, they might not be one hundred percent accurate. But the person is real. And the stories are true, just glazed with the memory brush. Painted with the perspective of the person telling the story.
It’s not easy being human. We have lots of obstacles to fight. We’ll doubt ourselves, and compare our lives to others. But if you can keep this one truth in your heart, always, maybe you’ll be kinder to yourself. What is that truth?
You are a part of this universe. You are a piece in the puzzle. A beautiful tile in the mosaic. The world needs you. There will never be another you. This is the only life where you will have this name. This nose. You matter!
You are a part of our story, and we will love you forever and ever!