Little Girl

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Something happened to me in that church on that island. A key turned in a chamber deep within my heart, a chamber that I didn’t even know existed, let alone had reinforced with heat-treated steel and mortise locksets. I cried for my nephew, not knowing that I was crying for myself, for the little girl inside of me. People always tell me that I’m strong, but I’m not. I’m tough, and used to doing things my own way, but I’m not strong. I never had anyone teach me how to be strong. The strength people see when they look at me is only a mask. I’ve worn it for years, but it’s finally worn-out. All it took was someone to see through its cracks to the insecurities below; someone who told me it was okay to cry.

And I cried. I cried for the little girl who always insisted on doing everything by herself; for the little girl who didn’t have anyone to do it for her. I cried and cried, until my eyes were red and swollen and I had nothing left inside of me. Then, I slept. When I woke up, I felt like new – aware that there are many more tears ahead, but accepting of my weakness and ready to cry them.

It’s clear to me now that I am traveling not to journey around the world, but rather to journey to the center of my being. I’m on a path to acceptance and enlightenment; faced with the opportunity to reach into the darkest corner of my heart, to pluck out the hurt that has been aching there for a lifetime, give it the love it deserves, and let it go. Along the way, I will meet amazing people and see amazing things, but it’s not for them that I’m doing this. I’m doing it for that little girl. I’m holding her hand and telling her that everything will be okay. I’m showing her love and letting her grow. The world and all of its possibilities lie open at her – at my – feet. All I have to do is reach out and take hold.

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