love light

I went through the windshield of our car when I was 4.

This obviously had a profound effect on my life. One of the things that I clearly remember from the time was pre-accident, people constantly commenting on how cute I was, then post-accident, people looking at me and tears would start to well up.

Yes, they'd look at me and basically start crying. Later, they would struggle to say something positive about me - my eyes and hair (when it started to grow back, that is) became instant hits and for years I couldn't stand it if anyone complimented me on either.

My Grandma - my Mom's Mom - was an exception. She was one of the only people - if not the only person who didn't seem to skip a beat. She thought I was the reason the sun rose before the accident and I remained so after. It was honestly like my blood-red scars criss-crossing and dividing my face, ripping my eyebrow and my chin up just... didn't exist. Were not there. Not like she didn't see them - it was as if they, as scars and markers of non-beauty in our society, remained included in the package that was me, but were beautiful. Because they were a part of me.

I needed that. To have the same love, to be treated the same as I was, pre-accident, and to be thought beautiful, shaved head and all. No matter what.

When Mom told Grandma over the phone about Moxie, Grandma said, "oh, that's all right! She's a baby and we'll love her!"

Grandma came over last night and I told her again. Without skipping a beat, she said, "honey, it's okay - she'll be happy and we'll love her"

I started crying.

I'm so lucky to still have my Grandma to make me feel like everything is going to be okay, so lucky to be bathed in her love and glowing positivity.