Half Woman.
Half Momma.
Yet, both identities blend into one individual struggling to maintain a daily equilibrium of self.
Love and nurture both parts with all of their needs, they both roar when abandoned.
They purr when appreciated.
Wo-Momma happens when baby girl spills her glass of Coca Cola all over the floor you just washed.
Wo-Momma happens with each spoonful of Nutella you soundlessly steal.
Wo-Momma bleeds.
Wo-Momma celebrates a forty minute run on a country road lined by olive trees and grape vines.
Wo-Momma snuggles under the covers; she lets you keep your nightlight even when you're twelve.
Morellino di Scansano and leftover pizza; orange juice and eggs with fresh truffles.
When it suddenly starts pouring rain, don't hand her a broken umbrella...kiss her.
