I looked down at my feet and saw they are the feet of a woman, the young girl i once was had gently slipped away while i was busy.
And in the quiet, all of the things i had let pass me by, found space to arise, to be seen, witnessed, to be healed. And i chose to breathe into them.
And i mourned those parts of me again and again. I went to her and i cried for her innocence and loved her for her courage. I wonder now how she survived but survive she did. And here i am. I am.