Broken, but still good

I heard it the first time in Lilo & Stitch, and boy, did it resonate. It's become a bit of a family slogan. My mama used to say it to me.

She cupped my cheek on my fourteenth birthday and wiped away a tear, "Oh daughter... we are broken, but we're still good."

"Mom. I don't know what to do. My brothers hate me." I sobbed.

"No, they don't-- they'll come around. I am so proud of you. I am so sorry. I had no idea what your dad was doing. Thank you for telling the truth." Her voice weakens with every word. She's barely audible by the end of it, and by the slump of her shoulders I can see the burden she carries. I can see the bruises left by large, veined hands- hands I used to cling to in the grocery store.

"Why don't they see it like I do, mom?"

She sighs a world weary sigh, "because... they are not women... they are worth something to him." She meets my eyes. She's just called me a woman, and we both know it's true. I stopped being a child years ago. "C'mon, hon. Let's do something fun today-- it's your birthday. Let's get through this. Together. We will get you away from him. We will get you all away from him-- just one more visit."

I steady myself and wipe the tears with the back of my hand, "Okay. Just one more visit." I put on my wistful smile and squeeze her hand, "what on earth are we doing moping? It's my birthday!" She smiles at my false happiness and pats my cheek once more.

"Yes. Broken, but still good."

We rise, pull strength round our shoulders in invisible robes, and paste on the cheer with a glue of perseverance.

I endured with a smile. I made it. We got me away from him.

And I thought that perhaps I might heal someday. I thought there might be a time I was no longer broken-- that the cracks might stop showing, but now I know...

I will always be broken, but

Still Good.