My mother is my best friend.
Not just because she gave me life
but because somehow, life gave me her twice.
Two Aquariuses.
Fourteen days apart.
Years reversed like God copied and pasted a soul
into two different timelines.
We laugh the same.
Feel too much the same.
Go quiet when the world gets heavy the same.
People think we’re dramatic,
but they don’t understand what it’s like
to carry oceans in your chest
and still show up soft.
I look at her sometimes
and it feels less like I’m looking at my mother
and more like I’m looking at a reflection of myself
with more wisdom in her eyes.
Same stubbornness.
Same overthinking.
Same heart that loves until it hurts.
Same ability to walk into a room tired
and still make everybody else feel safe.
Because that’s who she is.
A woman so loving
she will pour from an empty cup
just to make sure everybody around her feels full.
The type to forget herself
while reminding everyone else of their worth.
The type to carry pain quietly
so nobody has to feel uncomfortable around her sadness.
And sometimes I wish she loved herself
with the same softness she gives the world.
Because people will call her strong
without realizing strength has been survival for her.
They’ll admire how much she gives
without asking what it cost her to keep giving.
My mother is spiritual in a way
that can’t really be explained.
She feels things before they happen.
Prays over people without telling them.
Finds meaning in storms, signs, timing, silence.
God sits with her differently.
You can tell.
Even in her hardest moments,
she still speaks life into people.
Still finds a way to believe.
Still finds a way to love.
She understands me without me explaining.
Knows the difference between my silence
and my “I’m okay.”
Knows when my spirit is tired
before the words ever leave my mouth.
And I think that’s why the thought of life without her
doesn’t even feel real to me.
Because who do you become
when the person who helped shape your soul
is no longer there to remind you who you are?
She is my motivation on the days I want to quit.
My reassurance when life humbles me.
My safe place when the world feels cold.
The voice that tells me to keep going
when I’m doubting myself quietly.
She loved me through versions of myself
I was still learning how to survive.
And somehow never stopped believing
in the woman I was becoming.
People talk about soulmates like they only exist romantically.
But I think mine came as my mother.
Same sign.
Same spirit.
Different years.
Different bodies.
One connection I know this life could never replace. 🤍
Ashley Monae 