I remember when she was a young child. Always a little off-center, a dreamer, a defender. Making up stories, acting out other lives, creating. I was there the day she pushed the child away.
I remember that she lost her way many times. Stumbling, faltering, hiding, protecting. I watched her stand up, brush off her knees, gather strength and walk.
I remember the moment when it all became clear to her. When she finally saw the "why" of her. The day she let the child back in. The moment that tilted the earth another inch.
I remember looking into her eyes recently. A lifetime of living staring back at me. And more remarkable, the laughing eyes of that wayward child.