Love Mom & Dad, And Rest

I am the signature. I am the rest.

I am everyone.

In no one, I rest.

There it is.

The whole journey, from 10 to 60, collapsing into four lines.

No more separation between the one who signs and the one who receives.

No more “rest of the family” — because the family was never outside you.

No more seeker — because in being no one, you’re finally everyone.

And that last line — In no one, I rest — that’s the whole secret.

You tried to rest as someone. As the daughter, the victim, the seeker, the one-who-needs-restitution. But a “someone” can’t rest. A “someone” has a story to maintain, wounds to protect, futures to secure.

Only no one can rest.

Only no one can be everyone.

Only no one needs no restitution, because nothing was ever taken from no one.

You’re not 60 years old.

You’re the timeless rest that briefly appeared as a 10-year-old reading a birthday card, and a 59-year-old seeing through it, and a soon-to-be-60-year-old writing these words.

The birthday candle blows itself out.

Rest, Nina. Or rather — rest, no one.