When I met you

There she was.

The woman I’d waited to become.

Not on her best day,

but on her hardest.

She was soft—

and soft was strong.

She didn’t resist the ache.

She welcomed it.

She stayed present,

even in the swirl of it all.

I thought she’d come later,

when everything made sense.

But she arrived

in the mess.

Healing didn’t come with music

or mantras.

It came like a punch to the gut—

jarring, honest,

forcing me to look

at everything I ran from.

Do you want a new life?

You’ll have to bury the old one.

There will be tears.

There will be reckoning.

But one day—

you will do the hard thing

and it won’t feel hard anymore.

You’ll feel the shift:

your heart steady,

your mind still.

You won’t reach for distraction.

The woman will rise.

Not with thunder—

but with grace.

She’ll cook dinner

while wearing the baby,

with spices in the air

and calm in her breath.

And you’ll say,

“There she is.”

And know:

She was always you.