“Mama, what is that painting on the wall?”
“She’s the fine line that holds the balance of the world.
She rises with dawn and dusk finds her hands full.
She’s the bearer of children and raiser of nations.
Kings will suck at her breasts, and life will come from her womb.
For her, men die. Through her, men live.
Fragile, yet strong.
Firm, yet kind.
Bold, yet patient.
My beautiful Adaeze, once you see a fragile flower blooming beautifully, strong and fierce even in the midst of thorns, you have met a woman.”
“Mama, when will I be a woman?”

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