This page is scaffolded and ready. Buckets fill in as KB brain-dumps the song. Structure matches every other song sheet so nothing has to be redesigned later.
Fan hook. If you've spent years untangling something with your mother, and somewhere along the way it turned into love — this song is for you.
My mom was sixteen when she had me.
That means she and I didn't really grow up like a mother and a daughter. We grew up like sisters who happened to be raising each other. Which is its own kind of beautiful, and its own kind of complicated. By the time I was fifteen, I had moved out. We had years of distance after that. Years of tension. Years of trying to figure out who we were to each other when neither of us had ever really had the chance to be the version of mother and daughter the world expects.
It took a long time, but we found our way back to each other.
What's wild is that now, as adults, we talk about the patterns. The generational stuff. The things her mom passed down to her, and the things she passed down to me, and the things I get to choose not to pass down to anyone else. We name it out loud. We laugh about some of it. We cry about other parts of it. And then we keep going.
We're not just dealing with the inheritance anymore. We're healing it. Together.
This song is what that healing sounds like.