A Letter To Every Girl

To the North Star:

Dear mom, I cannot tell you how foreign that word sounds on my tongue. How it feels uncomfortable like sleeping on a bed of nails and equally as scary. Angela, mother, thank you for naming me after you, dad and my grandmother who was the few to participate in a sit in and never got recognition. My middle name, you wrote that it was the first thing God had ever given you: Grace. I hear you used to write poems about us, and how the tables turn me writing a poem about you. I know how you were on your death bed months before my fourth birthday and how your body wasn't healthy enough for kids but you gave birth to my older brother Kae'Vaughn Deangelo Davis Caldwell, born with a deformed hand, and me Makayla'Rae Grace Caldwell, born on the brink of death, premature and could fit in the palm of my fathers hand..hands like a pebble compared to yours. Heart beat too rapid, and I think my heart was jumping with joy to finally gaze upon the woman that had housed me, I had spent so much time being cradled in your soul that we were bright yellow, golder than gold.
You left me 18 Indian dolls, collectors items, and when I get the last one it has a note in its hand, and I can't wait until my 18th birthday to read what you had to say to me.
Dear mom, the words are not as foreign, they do not feel like sandpaper, they feel like the missing link in my vocabulary. They sound like a symphony of I love you and I care about you and you mean so much to me. You mean so much to me.
Angela, a angel. My mother, the woman who brought me into this world I hope you're smiling down. From my four year old fantasies I still look up to the stars, and the north one, that shines so much brighter than the rest is you, and one September night on the 23rd day one joined you, right next to you. That is your husband. I hope that one day we are able to form a constellation, they will name us agápi, the Greek word for unconditional love. You will be the last star I see and the first star I see before sunrise, the woman who allowed me to experience a sunrise.
Dear North Star: I love you.