I stumble back to myself. Balance feels impossible after falling, but I find it every time. I think back and swear I’m seventeen again. Deep breathing under cherry glazed skies. Letting summer air do the healing. Not understanding why my breath shudders and how that protects me. I’m wearing glitter and it feels like armor. I’m not brave in ways I had once hoped- everything feels endless until it actually ends. Grief still pulls me into a deep slumber and sometimes I don’t have the courage to wake up fully. They say, “she’s the lesson” and I’m not sure what I’m even teaching. But I know that rotting in a dark room sometimes means peace. I know that I found a new definition of bravery and I live it everyday. I know that I’m far from seventeen, but a piece of me will forever grip onto that version of naivety. Hold it close. Hold it, gently still. I know that I think back too often- even as I’m stumbling back to my own self. -AMT