Losing my mother made me look backwards. Being a mother forces me to look forward.
I think differently now about what we leave inside the people we love: memories, wounds, gestures, stories, ways of seeing the world.

One day, my children may search for me in the same invisible places where I now search for her.
Between the mother I lost and the children who will continue after me, I have become a passage.

What remains is what we pass on.