I'm the youngest daughter. Always got the good grades, the good jobs, had the good luck. Could do no wrong. Just ask my sister. Could be so proud of me. Good, little Krista. It was easy to be a mama's girl then.
However, just sift through any blog posts from the past year and a half, and you'll be able to actively see the shift of my universe. My existence became tarnished. The perfect daughter, divorced. Good jobs, gone. Poor decisions, too many U-Hauls.
Living in an attic.
Stuck in a job search.
I try to step outside myself and look at my life, and it's hard. When did this happen to me? I'm supposed to have the perfect life, aren't I? Success. Bills that are paid on time. A reason to be proud.
I try to be proud of myself, and it's a struggle. It's hard to be a mama's girl now.
But I still am. I'm her daughter.
I may be 27 (point three), but when I've needed to cross the street, she's held my hand. I'm like a balloon that she holds onto. The string's wrapped carefully around the palm of her hand, and she hangs on tightly as I bob unsteadily through the air. All she has to do is let go, and I'll float away.
I might deflate, hang a bit lower in the sky, but she won't drop the string. She's still proud. And I love her for that every day. I'm a mama's girl.
Because of her, I know I'll be just fine.