I hold my hand up to the sun, looking at the light that slips between the spaces of my fingers. The warmth is ever so familiar, like when I was ten playing with my cousin on the broken up cobblestone floor of the main street in that tiny little town. I wonder what happened to that big white sheepdog? And oh, the way we would get scolded for dragging in the street dust! Our only worries staying out of the heat and the amount of hazelnuts we could eat before we’d get called for dinner.

The sun kisses my hair, and I think I see a glimpse of that old white dog. “Yeah” I think. “Life’s finally good again.”



I cried today.

I think I cried today for the first time in years. I think I cried today because I’m happy.

Am I happy?

I think I’m happy.

I cried today because my reflection is no longer scared. I think I cried because I’m no longer scared of my reflection.

I’m happy.

I believe I’m happy. I’m happy because I believe.

People told me they believed in me. I would not cry. I wouldn’t believe them.

Now I know it’s true. I cry because it is true, because I believe in my happiness, in my tears, and in myself.

So, I cried today, and it was good.