My mother told me that she always wanted to name me Sky.
She would tell me every day to look up at my namesake and gaze into that oblivion.
So mysterious and scary,
And forever changing.
She would tell me stories of her childhood
Of the heartaches, the scraped knees,
The make-up travesties, and the first kiss.
Of her first drive by herself, her favorite songs to cry to,
Her favorite dances to do while she was alone in her room,
And anything else she would want me to know.
She made sure I grew up loving other women just as much as I loved myself.
So comfortable in my own skin that I used my wit and a soft smile to make others feel good about themselves too.
She would let me cry if I needed too, and
Laugh when I wanted to.
She made sure I never apologized for the sounds that come out of my mouth, even when they were ugly, and I don't feel human.
She let me curl up and be alone when I needed to
And she would bring me movies and pints of ice cream
So I would be reminded that there is a difference
Between being lonely and being alone
And how she never wanted me to be either
if I didn’t want to be.
She taught me how to become raw and on fire at the same time.
Telling me to
Never looking back,
never second guess,
always keep my head high,
And always use my sharp tongue and blazing eyes for good.
Remembering to be vulnerable with those I love,
To cry after a long day of hard work,
To talk, to listen,
to feel and think in equal amounts.
Between bad relationships and good grades.
Through every boyfriend, girlfriend, and “just friends.”
From sitting bench to dancing my heart out on stage.
She loved me.
She couldn’t even change that if she wanted to.