She learns to balance everything. Not by saying no, but by becoming better at carrying. She moves things around inside herself. Adjusts her boundaries without calling them boundaries.
Learns to smile while her hands are already full. There is always room for one more thing, they say. And she begins to see it all as a kind of strength.
To never drop anything. To never let it show that it is getting heavy. Until the weight is no longer something she carries...but something she is.
As if her hands are still full, but she can no longer remember what they were ever meant to hold.
