Always & Forever

The distance hums like a low note I can’t unhear.

Once, our voices braided through the same air —

now they travel through memory and prayer.

Love didn’t end; it just learned a quieter language.

I’ve built walls out of old conversations,

each word a brick meant to protect what’s left of me.

But even walls crumble under the weight of unspoken things.

Maybe I don’t need armor — maybe I need softness.

My spirit feels restless,

ready to run toward something unnamed,

but every time I sprint, I lose the path.

So I breathe. I stand still. I look ahead.

Beyond this ache,

I can see a horizon calling my name —

the promise of what could grow

if I stop watering the past with my tears.

You are still here, in the pulse of my becoming.

Through my choices, you get to live new lives,

see new skies,

feel what freedom feels like.

Maybe love isn’t about holding on.

Maybe it’s about carrying the light forward —

always and forever.

Dear Mom,

I still feel you — in my laughter, in the rhythm of my growth,

in the moments I find strength I didn’t know I had.

Even from miles away, your love echoes.

And when I step into something new,

I hope you see it and smile.

Love,

Nyna