The Break Is Where Light Gets Out

The morning light is harsh on the performance of okayness. You watch your child's trembling hands trying to glue the shards back together, terrified that breaking the thing means breaking your love.

They are working so hard to hide the crack, to make the evidence disappear before you walk into the room. But the light does not need a perfect object to love the holder.

There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world — even the parts that feel shattered. The fear says: if they see the break, they will leave.

The truth says: the break is just the place where the light gets out. Your child is not hiding from you; they are hiding from the shame that says they are too much trouble.

You are the first face they will look for to know if they are still safe. Do not ask about the vase.

Ask about the fear. The thing that was broken can be replaced.

The trust that is built in the telling of the truth cannot be bought.