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| Crista |
Every morning is a birth day in a way. Each day different.
Birth, a new beginning. A separation from what we knew, to the unknown. Squeezing pain sharp and dull with small rests in between. Messy liquids, solids sometimes. Anxiety, joy, tears (and tears), relief. Repeat.
Life changing. A mystery to revel in. Never enough rest. So much excitement who can sleep. Counting fingers and toes is not a cliche. We must know where we put these extensions of ourselves for safe keeping.
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| Crista & Sara |
Those that love us reflect us to ourselves.
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| Crista & Alice |
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| Crista & Richard |
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