Where Love Heals

Nine years ago today,

I thought I had reached

the end of my story.

I didn’t know

there were pages already waiting for me

that I had not lived long enough to turn.

I didn’t know

there would be mornings

when sunlight would find me

and I would actually want to be found.

I didn’t know

I would laugh until I couldn’t breathe,

love people I hadn’t met yet,

stand in places I hadn’t seen,

hear songs that hadn’t been written,

or become someone

I couldn’t yet imagine.

I didn’t know my own hands

would make beautiful things.

I didn’t know

there were words inside me

still waiting for their turn to exist.

I didn’t know

that one day

I would write a book

instead of an ending.

God,

I almost missed it.

That’s the thought

I can’t get past today.

I almost missed

every ordinary day,

every unexpected kindness,

every ridiculous laugh,

every lesson that hurt,

every moment that healed,

every person who stayed awhile,

every person who taught me something

before they left.

I almost missed

the woman I would become.

And maybe that is what

undoes me most—

when I look back at her,

the girl who believed

there was nothing left,

I wish I could sit beside her

without trying to explain the future.

I wouldn’t tell her

everything gets easier.

It doesn’t.

I wouldn’t promise

nothing will hurt again.

It will.

I think I would just take her hand

and whisper,

You haven’t seen everything yet.

There is so much

you don’t know is coming.

There are versions of you

you haven’t met.

There are words

you haven’t written.

There are places

your feet haven’t stood.

There is love

you don’t yet know how to receive.

There are mornings

that will make you grateful

you saw one more sunrise.

So stay.

Stay for the things

you cannot imagine yet.

Stay long enough

to surprise yourself.

Stay long enough

to meet the woman

who will someday look back at you

with tears in her eyes

and understand:

you thought you were ending a story.

You had no idea

you were only

nine years away

from being grateful

you got to stay.

Jacque Michele