I love her.

All of the people that I have ever been and will be, live inside me///
Shedding skin like a snake, but remaining essentially the same at the core.

I love her. 9 year old me, who would beg all of her siblings and cousins to have song writing contests with her. Every time I write something I know its her. She loves words and the way that there are so many ways of saying one thing. She started to journal way back when, and reminded me how important it was to continue to do it, even though life wasn't as simple as it was then. "Bask in life's complexity." She says

I love her. 5 year old me. She was quiet and reserved. She never opened the door too quickly for strangers. You had to gain her trust. And once you did, she allowed you into a world of creativity. That which was her mind. I'm still quiet and reserved and only trust few, but I have her to thank for that.

I love her. 12 year old me. For taking risks. She went out for the basketball team at school with no fear. Confident in her skills, confident that she'd make it, and she did. I wish I could channel some of her strength right now, in this time where I feel far from confident.

I love her. 22 year old me. She is the epitome of strength. Her body became a portal for life, and she fiercely took on the responsibility.  She roared my first son into the world after a hail storm, under the light of the moon, on the bed of a small house. She always reminds me that that same strength is still inside me, although I don't feel it sometimes.