America’s Distaste for Mommy’s Milk
I don’t know a lot about a lot. I’m only four months old, after all. My understanding of the world revolves around one thing: milk. I love milk. I love my mommy’s milk. Really, like there’s no form of measurement grand enough to represent how much I absolutely love my mommy’s milk. It is my breakfast, lunch, dinner and snack. I love it so much that I often drink too much of it, which makes me vomit. And when I do, I always vomit on myself so that none of that sweet, sweet goodness goes to waste. Because my mommy’s milk is so good that it not only fills my tummy with vitamins and protein, but it also helps keep my skin healthy. Incredible, right?
Yeah, my mom’s boobs are awesome.
...that when you spend time helping the truly broken—the ones who require more patience than seems reasonable—you walk away with two revelations: how much of yourself still works, and how vital the fragile thread of kindness is that holds people together.