Abby
My cousin moves like summer — golden, fleeting, full of light.
I graduated college after a severe traumatic brain injury.
By Gentle Witch
Graduated college with a double major
Former federal government employee
My cousin moves like summer — golden, fleeting, full of light.
My mother’s voice could turn chaos into calm — a lullaby disguised as advice.
My uncle is a bonfire — loud, alive, and always drawing people in.
My closest sibling in age is wild honey – sweet and stubborn – her words stick to my soul effortlessly.
My mother is a bright sunny day — wholesome warmth breaking through every storm.
My family’s heart beats through my mother — steady, strong, and full of love.
My uncle doesn’t cook, but he makes every meal feel like a celebration.
My dad’s jovial laughter fills a room faster than music does.
My sibling farthest in age from me is the reason I learned both humility and forgiveness.
My mom’s patience is the glue that keeps our family from killing each other.