Morning

I woke up to the smell of heat. Not overwhelming heat but an aroma letting me know that the sun was out, the birds were awake and morning had come. The smell of the trees and the heat took me back to a place the feels so familiar but that I can’t fully recall. As my fingers glide overs theses keys and the subtle breeze passes thru the window gate I am floating back to…where? Back to a place I was but I wasn’t. I see a smaller me; a dark, quiet girl, serious and unsure. I see a girl whose demeanor is like an egg that was meant to be boiled but taken out of the water to soon. The shell looks hard and ready but one touch and the contents will come oozing out. I see dirt and grime mixed into the beauty of the trees, the sun and the air. I see me…sitting on the steps of the brownstone, book in hand, not knowing what to do with my time but knowing what I wanted to avoid. I see me there and not there.

As the sun warms my face in 2011 I struggle to find those moments of long and talk to that little lost girl. I know she lives inside me and is angry, alone, confused and scared but I need to help her grow and heal so that we can go forward as one. This journey is intense, scary and revealing because I can no longer recall all that this child has seen or felt and I’m told I’ll have to experience it “again” in order for her to find peace. As I travel along this journey I’m praying that this shell does not crack, that I’ve been left in the water long enough not to shatter when I encounter the realities of the past.