Sun in Cancer ♋️
When I speak of you, I turn my face to the sun. The warmth of its rays feel like your embrace and the comfort of your guidance. I searched for wholeness in others - stitching myself to pain narratives and wayward souls, looking to mother my way into confidence. I came to you in pieces and learned to find peace in my own reflection. I untangled mottled chords of assimilation and self-abnegation and reclaimed a voice wrought with confidence and rebellion. When I speak of you, I turn inwards and have found your support in the fire of my backbone. I know what it is to stand tall with you as my example.
Our kinship helped me learn how to save myself - to choose me over and over again, to find joy in the fight for our lives, and to reach through my dreams and cradle the strength of my ancestors. I fell in love with polenta and finally understood neoliberalism. I retired my comedy act and voraciously dove into alternative knowledges and traced your words in sites of struggle. We shared laughter and style as I watched you grow into the fashionista you always were while I inherited the chicest attire and the language of one bad ass Marxist feminist.
When I think of you, I turn my face to the sun and remember the strength you embody - an example of what is possible when I say I love myself and live like I mean it, to be the sole author of my truth and choose joy over assimilation. I love you for all this and more - for the adventures and the mentorship, for all of our laughter and your agreement to be Dexter’s god mother, for the magic Tylenol and your kindness, for being my teacher, my mentor, my cheerleader, my friend, my sistren, and my compass. When I think of you, I turn to the sun and know that so many of us can shine as brightly because you are the fiercest (and my favorite) star in this universe.
Happy birthday Linda, I love you more than words can say and wish you all the joy, mushy mangos, and good health the world can offer in this season of life!
