It’s about what she can’t keep—what stays
broken—what she can’t fix like her mother’s
pearls (the fragile string in her hands),
her father’s glasses (the splintering under
her foot). It’s about how everything that
lasts becomes sacred and how it feels—that
wanting to go home—the way light traces
a pine tree’s branch and the garden’s almost
sustainable brightness. It’s about waiting,
how she learns to be patient, to keep getting up,
and nothing less than the rest of her life.
