The Shared Breath
A quiet remembrance on how every inhale is borrowed and every exhale is a gift — a reflection that begins in a shared bed, expands through family, and ends in communion with all that breathes.
Wisdom is how you live.
A quiet remembrance on how every inhale is borrowed and every exhale is a gift — a reflection that begins in a shared bed, expands through family, and ends in communion with all that breathes.
Parenthood has a way of changing how you understand love. The strength I once measured by how high I could stand is now measured by how gently I can stay. My children have taught me what my mother’s faith began — that love doesn’t always reach upward; sometimes it sends roots downward. And in that quiet turning, Christ meets me again — not in the sky, but in the soil, where breath becomes belonging.
We live inside architectures we didn’t build — family, faith, culture. Most stay invisible until they crack, and in the cracks longing shows itself.