haley is trying again

sky high

I've never known such visceral, comforting love like that from Indigenous women. Something about your Auntie or Grandma or Cousin caring for you is so deeply impactful, I wouldn't be here without it. And if I'm being honest, I genuinely don't know how people are here without ever having experienced it. When they smile or throw their head back in laughter or even scold you, the ancestral love is palpable. Suddenly you're engulfed in thousands of years of love from your relatives.

I see generations of love in my Grandma's smile, in her smile lines, in her hands. I see generations of support in my Auntie's laugh, in her trauma, in her jokes. I feel generations of motherhood in my own mother, despite knowing I'll never be one.

And then they take their journey.

Home.

I've been transported hundreds of miles away, home again. In through the broken door, up the stairs, and I see her there in my room. It’s not my room anymore. I grew up in here and parts of me never left, all the best parts I’m sure. She looks at me though, slumped on the floor and my chest aches so much for her. She’s lonely and so am I. She sees me, I think she might be disgusted. She thinks I’m fat, not pretty, boring, and sad.