I pulled over to the side of the road, my eyes fixated on the rising full moon, a harvest moon. I feel a familiar catch in my throat: the last time I saw the harvest moon I was married, I whisper to an empty car.

So much has changed in the preceding year. In just one full revolution around the sun, much has been altered from what I once knew.

I am captivated by the beauty of this glowing work of the Creator’s hands. I think about what it might be like if I could extend my hand out and touch its surface, to feel its texture beneath my fingertips. I suddenly notice the void of stars in this night sky. I think to myself, it mirrors so much of this last year when everything just went black.

Last September I wrote a post titled Dear Diary. It was an attempt to tell the truth to my people, my world, about everything my children and I had been through. I wrote it to acknowledge the pain I was in at that very moment. I wanted to tell the truth of the abuse we had suffered, the horror we had all witnessed. But I couldn’t. All I could do was hint at what had happened; I think it’s still all I can do. Maybe some day I’ll tell the whole story. Maybe. 

I am not who I once was. I have had to drink deeply from a well of sorrow but I have also tasted joy. 

365 days. I didn’t know if I could make it through this last year. I didn’t know if I could get my kids through all the changes we would face. I couldn’t, but we did.

To the humans closest to my heart, you took too many desperate texts flooded with tears and confusion, although you always answered with gentleness and patience. Thank you for hanging in there, you’re squeezing all my broken pieces back together.

To my professors who sat with me while I wept and whispered, I believe in you still, my gratitude.

To my therapist who joined me fully in this grief, your tender compassion has kept me moving forward.

To the friends who have shown up over and over again, thank you for the kind words you used to remind me that I belong in this space as you helped create a soft landing for me and my children.

To my family, who stepped into the gap and helped keep our heads from falling, we love you.

One full revolution. The day came in and left us quietly, seemingly without notice.

One full revolution around the sun and I am no longer married, I have had to learn how to be on my own. My children are healing, my mind is becoming free. I have awakened to the beauty of truly living, I have wept bitter tears. Last year I told my world we would be ok, I now know how very true that is.

It’s September again, fall has come once more

The harvest moon has risen, the dead things are falling away

An invitation to slow, preparing for the renewal of every living thing