You Were There

Sometimes the Universe does not speak in silence.

Sometimes it sings.

A melody rises, and something inside the chest opens before the mind understands why. The first notes feel familiar, like a hand resting at the small of your back.

And the heart whispers what it has always known.

You were there.

Before I had language.
Before I had courage.
Before I understood the shape of my own becoming.

There was a knowing love that did not need explanation. A presence that did not recoil. A steadiness that felt like home.

A Mom who watched me with eyes that already understood.
Who made room.
Who made time.
Who never flinched.

She knew me long before I did.

And in her gaze was something larger than either of us. Something that felt ancient and gentle and impossibly patient.

You were there.

In the unraveling.
In the questions.
In the long ache of trying to reconcile what the world said with what the soul already knew.

You were there when the music carried what I could not say.

And slowly, over years, the message became clearer:

Presence is holy.
Acceptance is sacred.
Love does not withdraw.

We are invited to become what we once needed.

To sit beside someone in their becoming.
To stand steady when they are still finding their name.
To remain.

My heart always knew.

You were there.