How sad that little girls don’t dream of becoming stepmoms when they grow up

Wicked Rural Homestead

Here I am the same as before, but different in every way.

Me,

wanting to be there for them every second, but knowing full well such things are impossible.

I have to let go everyday.

Every morning when I wake up and they are not there.

Each time we get in the car headed South again.

They inspire my every thought and they hold my dreams in their ever-growing hands, their smiles are like granted wishes and their laughs like answered prayers.

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