I’m still yours

Even if I never meet a husband

Or no one calls me “Mother”

Or I never climb the stone steps of the Tower in London or buy a stamped leather notebook in Paris or drift on a sunset long boat on the Nile

I’m still yours

Even if I get sick with what my mother had

Even if I never have the house with the front porch and the vines or the dog that chooses the the top porch step every time or land of my own, even if it just reaches to the driveway

I’m still yours

Even if I don’t get the degree at the famous school or read that book that everyone talks about

Even if I never have the time

I’m still yours

Even if I’m not a C.S. Lewis or a Tolkien or nobody ever knows my name but my family

Not on a screen?

Or on a book cover?

Maybe only ever the name of an old movie people saw once

I’m still yours

Even if I’m always labeled the quiet one or the one that’s hard to get to know

Even if I’m never the daughter I want to be

Or the way I want to be

Or sitting on the dark line of the timeline where I want to be

I’m still yours

Maybe that is all, that we just be yours, and everything else is received, here or hereafter, from your loving hands, as they move through space and time and before, always saying

”You’re still mine“