Sometimes healing comes on a normal Tuesday morning. You don’t recognize it, you fight it. And brush it aside. You do what you’ve been doing for years, trying to get by. You don’t accept it.
Then, when you least expect it, closure arrives many moons later, on an ordinary Saturday afternoon. You glance to your right. You laugh a little, then you find yourself laughing a lot. It was never the healing you expected, nor the closure you predicted. You cry a little, and realize for the first time, in a long time you feel joy again. You’re able to breathe again. You exhale and let it all out. You recognize, you are finally free.
Her Name Means Wild 