I know you are afraid. Scared of the unknown, hoping for someone to see you. It’s okay.
I remember your laugh. The sun rose every morning as you approached a new day full of adventures. Your heart felt warm, full of color.
I remember your first fall. You were rough with a gentle tone. Always right with the boys, your tumble caused pain but your eyes sensed shame. You had a will to ignore.
I remember that day. You ran to the steps that always seemed so high. You tussled up the porch, waving at your mom goodbye. You felt safe.
I remember how that day ended. Your security stripped from you like the night replacing the sun. You were hurt. Experiencing something little girls should never have too.
Yet, you hid behind fear that normalized the deceit. Your strength amazes me. Your pain paralyzes me.
I notice the pause, caused by traumatic scenes not really seen until you truly think about it. It’s okay.
I know you are afraid.
The fear once felt can be erased. You can embrace. The wholeness that comes with knowing pain, growing sane. It’s you.
Don’t be afraid. I see you.