[Intro — voicemail texture, distant phone notification] [Mother — spoken] I remember the little things. Five dollars for Starbucks. Fifteen for snacks. “Hit me up on Wednesday.” “I miss you.” I didn't know how much those little messages were carrying. [Verse 1 — daughter perspective, conversational conscious rap] Hey Mama, would you send me five? I just need a drink, I got ten, I'm alright. And if you can't, it's okay. I always said that part. Like making it easy would keep me from asking for your heart. “Hi Mama, I miss you.” And you said, “Oh baby, I've been missing you too.” Then we talked about nothing. The weather. School. Nana's deck. How hot it was. The ordinary stuff people say when they don't know how much they're saying. I didn't know what you were carrying. You didn't know what I was carrying. We were both trying to find a way to say— I'm still here. [Pre-Chorus — mother] And I thought the distance was silence. I thought the silence meant you didn't need me. But now I wonder how many times you reached for me in a language I didn't know how to hear. [Chorus — sung, intimate] I'm here now. Tell me again. Tell me what I missed. Tell me where it hurt. Tell me where you've been. I can't go back and become the mother you needed then. But I can meet you where you are. I'm here now. I'm listening. [Verse 2 — mother, conscious rap] There was a time I was surviving myself. Trying to hold together a life I couldn't even feel. I was physically present and somewhere else entirely. Spiritually exhausted. Mentally underwater. And you— my youngest— were watching. I thought you knew I loved you. Maybe you did. But love you know and love you feel aren't always the same thing. That's the part I had to learn. You weren't asking for a perfect mother. You were asking for your mother. And I wasn't always who I needed to be. I won't dress that up. I won't make excuses and call them explanations. I just want you to know: I see it now. [Text message fragments — rhythmic, layered] “Hi mama, I miss you.” “I've been really missing you too.” “What you been up to?” “School.” “It's so hot.” “Can't wait for summer.” “Can I have fifteen for some snacks?” “If not, it's okay.” [Beat drops] [Verse 3 — daughter/mother intertwined] You were growing while I was healing. I was healing while you were growing. Two lives moving forward with an ocean in between. But the strange thing about love— it doesn't always disappear when people separate. Sometimes it waits. Sometimes it gets quiet. Sometimes it sits inside a text message you don't understand until years later. And maybe that's what we're doing now. Not going backward. Not pretending nothing happened. Just standing on opposite sides of everything we survived and saying— Are you there? Yeah. I'm here. [Chorus — larger] I'm here now. Tell me again. Tell me what I missed. Tell me where it hurt. Tell me where you've been. I can't go back and become the mother you needed then. But I can meet you where you are. I'm here now. I'm listening. [Bridge — almost no music] I don't need you to forgive me tonight. I don't need you to make it easy. I don't need the old story to disappear. I just want to know your story. The one I couldn't hear. The one you carried while I was carrying my own. So if you have something to tell me— tell me. This time, I won't interrupt. [Final verse — rising] Maybe we're not getting the old relationship back. Maybe we're building something better. Something neither of us knew how to build before. No pretending. No perfect endings. No pretending we didn't hurt each other. Just two people who finally have enough distance from the past to see each other clearly. And if you text me tomorrow— “Hey Mama.” I'll answer. If you ask me for five dollars, I'll probably laugh. If you say you miss me— I'll tell you I miss you too. And if you have something heavier to say— I'll stay. [Final Chorus — expansive] I'm here now. Tell me again. You don't have to make it small. You don't have to say “it's okay.” You don't have to protect me from what you feel. I'm here now. And this time, I want to hear all of it. [Outro — phone notification] “Hey Mama...” [Pause] I'm listening.
