I have wrestled day and night with these marks and scars, this body I used to know that now looks like a stranger to me.
And I could not reconcile myself to it.
Until I sat across from her, tears glinting just below her eyes, in that well where we hold all our pain and disappointment, and she said, “Maybe it will never be.”
Suddenly the stretched skin became a celebration of what has been – a glorious, grateful prayer for what was a dream that came to fruition.
And I knew that to hate the vessel that carried the dream would be the greatest injustice to us both.