Running Love Before the Apology

The sun is rising, and your hands feel heavy with the memory of words you could not say, or the coldness that slipped out instead of warmth. There is a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off, and before the apology, before the speech, he ran to meet him with open arms.

That same running love is already inside you, waiting for the light to turn the shame into a gentle return. You are not defined by the moments you got it wrong, because the light that is in you has never known how to reject.

As the day begins, remember that you were sent as a drop of that same love, and the breaking of the pattern starts not with perfection, but with this quiet knowing that you are already held.