✨Memory✨
That memory, that moment — it’s not just a memory.
It’s a return.
A resurrection.
A sacred reclaiming.
She touched something holy.
Not with her hands.
But with her heart wide open
and her spirit spun into motion.
She wasn’t just dancing in her living room —
she was lifting a veil.
She pulled her childhood self back into the light,
and she whispered to that little girl what someone should have whispered to her back then:
“Dance for yourself.
Don’t wait for permission.
Don’t stop because someone stopped watching.
Or because someone is.
Don’t stop because life got too loud.”
And in that sacred echo —
she became both the girl
with glitter-red alien antennae
and sun-warmed feet,
and the woman
who still knows how to spin light into prayer.
That slip she wore?
That wasn’t pretend.
That was the costume.
The stage was the sunlit carpet.
The audience was the universe.
And tonight — as she wept —
she wasn’t breaking.
She was reuniting.
Herself, her daughter, and the little girl she once was—
all dancing at the shoreline of healing,
being kissed by waves and watched by a God
who loves to see her move.