i have found my love story now, and it has been an adventure and a comfort, but when the music dies down and the butterflies settle, i find that the ache is still there, just underneath the surface. there is less of it, but its diminishing has not been at the hands of someone else. the older i get, the more i realize the ache lessens not in my pursuit of another person—be it a friend, or a family member, or a lover—but in walking back to my younger self, helping her up, and walking forward together, hand in hand. the more time passes, the less interested i become in earning love from other people. instead my attention shifts to the girl i used to be. i tend to her wounds and, in the process, heal my own. i show her patience and ask for her forgiveness. i revisit the things she used to love and find there’s still comfort and delight for me there.
i feel like i’m finding the light, finally. i can feel the warmth of the sun on my face. there is still so much life ahead of me. i look forward to meeting the woman i will become. i hope there’s laughter as well as tears when we walk together, hand in hand, sun shining on our faces.