Perhaps a mother is blessed both with blindness and hypervigilance when it comes to her children,
but I know whom I birthed.
You are a descendant of Viking women—warriors angry and proud, steadfast and true.
You are blessed with the easy, good humour of your father’s family and the keen intelligence of mine.
Your heart, unable to bear injustice of any kind, is your best bet for an inner guide.
Never quell your voice, baby girl.
Let it love and rage and call out the liars.
You are a truth-teller meant to protect the innocent, a fierce defender of good.
Most people will not be able to keep up with you.
Hold tight to those who can—
and love, love, love.
