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Welcome to Sacred Musings, a space where I share reflections from the heart on love, life, caregiving, and the lessons that shape us into who we are. My hope is that these words bring comfort, perspective, and inspiration to anyone walking their own path of healing and growth.

Little girl,

I know you.

I know how long you stood at the window
waiting for footsteps
that never carried the words
you needed to hear.

I know how many years
you confused longing
with love,
and hope
with home.

You became remarkable.

You earned degrees.
You healed strangers.
You ran miles.
You built businesses.
You learned the language of suffering
so no one else would feel as alone
as you once did.

You became so capable
that people mistook your strength
for the absence of hurt.

But every now and then,
before the sun rose,
your heart whispered,

“Can someone come get me?”

And because the heart is faithful,
it looked for your mother
inside other people.

It looked for home
inside a man.

It looked for belonging
inside a future
that was never yours to build.

Until one morning…

Truth sat beside your bed
before your feet touched the floor.

It didn’t shout.

It simply said,

“You are crying for the first home you never had.”

The room became quiet.

Not because the grief disappeared,
but because it finally knew its own name.

There is strange mercy in naming a wound.

Because unnamed wounds
send us wandering.

Named wounds
show us where to begin.

Listen to me now.

You were never too much.

You were never too needy.

You were never too difficult to love.

You were a child
asking for what every child deserves.

The tragedy
was never your asking.

It was that the people you asked
could not give what they themselves
did not possess.

So lay down the weight
that was never yours.

Lay down the verdict.

Lay down the question
that has followed you
like a shadow:

“Why wasn’t I enough?”

You were.

You always were.

Not because someone finally chose you.

Not because someone someday will.

Because worth
has never waited
for another person’s permission.

One day,
someone may walk beside you.

May laugh with you.

May love you
with steady hands
and an open heart.

But they will not become your home.

They will simply be
a welcome guest
inside the home
you have already built.

And what a home it is becoming.

A place where peace
is louder than panic.

A place where truth
is kinder than fantasy.

A place where the little girl
no longer waits at the window.

She is in the kitchen now.

The music is playing.

The lights are on.

She knows
the woman she became
always comes back for her.

So keep crossing bridges.

Not because someone waits
on the other side.

But because every step
brings you closer
to yourself.

And perhaps that beautiful bridge
you saw in your dream
was never leading you
to Oakland.

Perhaps it was leading you
home.

To the only home
that can never abandon you.

Your own heart.

By Kimberly!