We don’t need anything from anyone else to heal—we need ourselves. Our own patient tenderness. Healing happens in accepting the messiness—in accepting that those pesky loose ends don’t always get tied up, forever remaining frayed and shabby. Maybe those loose ends lead somewhere breathtakingly beautiful that we can’t see yet. And so, in this soft, fluttering moment, I nestle my chin in my knees, I hold myself—and I accept that this story feels unfinished, lacking the polished ending I would have preferred.But I can still turn the page.