Anyone who has lived life long enough, experiences life’s receding ebbs and magnanimous flows. Yet not everyone who has lived this long can witness the grace of those who’ve held us all along.

Count me among the lucky ones, engrave me in my Golden Hour.

Days before marrying in my fifties, my life-support core showed up to shower me with affection. Led by the lifetime friend I am honored to call family, this group is my strongest muscle, my relentless force of female fierce love.

We are the kind that grows in errors and flexes in well-earned celebrations.
A legion that leads with worth and holds a mirror to remind me of my own.

We’ve nurtured a voice that echoes truth. And as such, life’s stages, mistakes, and triumphs no longer scare us. They have strengthened us to become each other’s Book of Revelations.

Six months later, I learned painfully that marriages do not last forever.

The scar isn’t quick to heal, my lesson fast to reveal.

Help me ensure every female honors her tribe.

Let us remind us how friends love each other till death do us part.