She ran through the forest and leaves rained down, like teardrops dipped in tangerine paint.
She stood, breathless, on the mud-stained path, amongst the snarled roots and impressively tall rocks.
This moment was simple. Beautiful. And yet, it was something so much more...
It was the pinnacle of everything been working towards for years:
With no one but the ancient trees as her witness, she wrapped her shaky arms around her entire being & hugged herself, with unfamiliar softness.
This moment of supreme, silky tenderness shook her to the core.
She wept tears, like diamonds, of exquisite joy.
It was not quite that she had learned to love herself, she was still working on that. It was that she had learned what self-compassion tasted like. She had learned get out of her own damn way and melt, like caramel, into who she always wished to be:
Herself, unedited. As raw as the falling leaves. As deliciously imperfect as the straggly, windswept branches.
And on that unsuspecting day, on the damp forest floor she found finally it.
She found herself.