Sorry I’m late, little one.

We've got a lot of catching up to do....

Sorry I’m late, little one.
The world got loud…
and I got good at disappearing.

I see now how long you’ve waited—
for someone to choose you,
to listen without fixing,
to stay.

I was surviving.
But now I’m learning how to live—
with you.

This is not about perfection.
It’s about presence.
About reparenting the parts of me I once abandoned.

I’m not here to shame the past.
I’m here to hold it,
gently.
With you in my arms.
With truth in my voice.

You’re not too much.
You never were.
You’re the reason I’m still here.

Reparenting begins when we return—
not to who we were told to be,
but to who we’ve always been.

Little sister,
I’ve got you now.
And I’m not leaving again.

Reparenting begins now….