What's that saying,

"A daughter's first love is her father" or something ridiculous like that.

Or they say "little girls will grow up and search for their fathers in every person they meet", but I’ve been looking for my mother in everyone for my whole life.

The love of a mother is sacred, pure and unwavering. Relentless and enduring. A mother can’t help but to love their child across oceans, galaxies and lifetimes. A child can’t help but to desperately cry out for its mother, its source of life, its only vehicle for survival, to wish it lived behind her skin once more. And every time she leaves, its body ripped from her womb, left breathless, floating, hoping there are hands on the other side, if she’s not home before the first peek of daylight, no one is coming, no one is coming, no one is coming to save you. Feel crumbs in the pockets of ripped jeans, empty promises shaking in your fist, weaving in the air like the heart tied to your wrist. A child will tumble down highways and sing to the rivers, unfold the mountains, make birthday wishes, winded and listless, scrape their cheeks to keep from crying, to get back home to their mothers again. 

In my heart I am that child, sprawled out on my back, the sky as my witness, at the will of the currents, maybe someone will see me, holding my breath in case nobody sees me. 

I feel that loss deeply.