I remember seeing myself all knuckles and bones, ready to poke my own eyes out with shame.
I remember slouching into my clothes, ready to shrink away from prying junior-high condemnation. I remember red cheeks and closed lips. I remember disappearing.
I remember looking into the circle, wondering where my entrance would be, certain it lay somewhere just out of my skeletal reach.
I remember time passing. I remember fullness layering. I remember softening and easing and glowing.
I remember his eyes on mine, and the way they lingered. I remember feeling tingles: red cheeks for another reason entirely. I remember the confidence his arms held.
I remember being seen.
I remember being allowed to bloom.
I remember standing tall, in a circle of two. I remember being half of something beautiful, and all of something loved.