We were tucked away together,

in a cozy kitchen corner,

where sunlight spilled

across our worn tiles,

listening to a song

that felt like breakfast—

milky eggs and black tea.

A clattering of utensils

pots and pans singing

as the record player

whispered on about

universal mornings,

young camaraderie

found in our shared

moments, veiled truths

of broken families and

small town dreams.

The kind of things

that forces you to

grow up too fast,

and too soon;

but, here we are,

you and I,

overcomers,

ride or dies,

thick as thieves,

thicker than water,

thicker than the

grocery store

cinnamon rolls,

You know the ones,

the ones that really

stick together.

Sullen eyes

stare back at me,

Every pair that I see.

Sometimes I wonder if

they’re just reflecting

me?

I’ve always believed in the transformative power of kindness, a theme I recently explored in an article for Grice Connect, a local news source I write for. Little did I know, this concept would soon resonate even more deeply after my own experiences during an unforgettable journey abroad.

My partner David, his family, and I embarked on a trip that originally centered around a martial arts seminar in Germany, an amazing opportunity that emerged from their dedicated training. Eager to make the most of our travels, we planned an extension to explore Paris for two days. However, what was meant to be a straightforward itinerary unfolded into a series of unexpected events, each extending our stay and teaching us invaluable lessons about human kindness.

Our adventure into the unknown began with a canceled flight back home due to nationwide airline strikes in Germany, affecting our layover and leaving us stranded in Paris. Then, in a twist that seemed to compound our travel woes, I lost my phone on the Paris metro, causing us to miss our rescheduled flight once again.

Despite the initial panic and frustration, these mishaps became blessings in disguise, revealing the unmatched kindness of Parisians — a strong contrast to the stereotype of rudeness or standoffishness sometimes associated with the city’s residents.

The kindness we encountered in Paris was overwhelming. From locals patiently helping us navigate language barriers to spontaneously drawing maps or offering unsolicited discounts, their warmth and eagerness to assist were heartwarming. Every person we met was incredibly kind, helpful, and warm, excited to share about their love for Paris.

Our interactions weren’t limited to simply seeking directions or tips; they extended into genuine, and sometimes lengthy, conversations on the metro or in cafe lines, where locals were just as curious about us as we were about their lives in the City of Light.

One memorable encounter was with a woman who recounted her travels to America, reflecting on the joys of exploring new places with her children and now grandchildren. Her stories highlighted how travel enriches our appreciation for home, echoing our feelings of discovery and connection.

“Traveling makes us appreciate our homes more,” she shared, her words resonating with our own journey. This spontaneous connection on the metro was a testament to the depth of interaction possible when we open ourselves to the stories of strangers.

While packing up all of my things to move to a new apartment, I had an opportunity to sort through things that, over time, I’d forgotten about. I was flipping through an old sketchbook and I found a painting paired with a poem from a couple of years back.

And I remember

the first time my necklines,

Became blurred lines,

and then borderlines

became crossed lines,

and now every time I sigh

I

Hear the cries

over guidelines

that should have been redefined.

And now every time I breathe

I

Wonder if my necklines

can be rectified.

As I read this poem, I was flooded with emotions. Today, years ago, I was sexually assaulted, and this poem was something I wrote in an attempt to make sense of the guilt, pain, and confusion that I’ve battled ever since my assault.

Over the years, through the help of a strong support system, I rediscovered what love, intimacy, and joy could look like in my life. I learned that I could in fact rectify my body, my boundaries, my purity, my strength, and my sexuality. However, as I read my old fears out loud to myself I couldn’t help but feel this nervous tingle in my stomach. “What if I never truly healed from this?”

You see, I’ve always strived to remain open about the things that I’ve struggled hoping that my story could in some way help someone else. But as this day approached, I felt a long-forgotten heaviness in my chest causing me to clam up any time I tried to talk about the guilt I was feeling with friends. I was so confused.

So, looking down at my sketchbook, I started to meditate on how the road to redemption, while full of moments on the mountaintop, has moments spent in the valley.

Today, even though I didn’t quite feel ready, I reread the poem again. I was surrounded with peace and grace; I softly whispered to myself,

“You have been redeemed, you have freedom from this”.

I used to feel like I could never experience rectification for the things I had gone through. I believed that every single day, I would spend meditating on what had happened to me. That any time I was lying next to a partner, I would look into their eyes and see his face looking back at me. And while some days, this still feels like the case, most days I feel more strength, healing, peace, self-love, and forgiveness than I ever imagined possible.

Healing can be painful. Healing is a process. Healing can sometimes feel endless. Healing can be difficult. Not every day is easy, and in fact, most days aren’t.

But healing is beautiful, healing is possible, and healing will come.

If you feel like you’re in the valley, just remember that not all of your journey will be spent there. That every hard season eventually passes. That our doubts and worries and hesitations, while very real, aren’t always rooted in truth. And while you may not always feel like you’re making process, you are.

You are moving forward. You are climbing the mountain. You will reach the top. This is just the beginning, you are so worth loving, and redemption is at your fingertips.

Excerpt from the debut chapbook “Who I Am Today” by Julianna A. Leverette.

“Who I Am Today” holds a decade of work, honoring the journey of life; from leaving adolescence and childhood homes behind to searching for a place in the world, from navigating shadow work to healing ones deepest hurts, from releasing external expectations to deciding for yourself who exactly it is that you want to be. This poetry collection navigates past loves and lives, the hurdles of mental illness and existential dread, and creating peace with yourself, your experiences, and your choices, and believing that truly, it is well, through the ebb and flow.

Imagine all the things we could be if we weren’t controlled by insecurity:

Bolder. Braver.

More consistent. More driven.

More understanding. More forgiving. More loving.

I would take more pictures and post with less care.

I would be a better friend to myself,

and stand up for myself more often.

I would be less afraid to use my voice in its fullness.

I would be quicker to say, “I’m sorry, I’m learning, I’m growing”,

quicker to accept my flaws and failures,

quicker to forgive, quicker to extend grace,

and I would meet others just the same.

I wouldn’t let go of my dreams,

I’d cling until my palms were raw.

I would love more abundantly,

let my heart bear all.

Warmer. Softer. Lighter.

And more free than flowing air.

Rode ’round our small town for hours,

holding back the hurt that wanted to pour out.

It’s hard to not lose sign of who you are

in a world that wants to turn you cold and cruel.

But it’s the reminders from people like you

who help me to see my nature for what it is.

And as the tears started to pour down my face,

I felt freedom to feel my hurt, big as it may be,

and I was flooded with release.

My heart is a gift and

I won’t let the hate they give

turn me into someone like them:

I get to decide who I will be and

I have decided that

I will always have love

to give.

Another quiet uncomfortable moment

lost in a haze of memories,

your hands, my skin,

I find myself grappling

with the loss of

what we used to have.

Your presence,

once a familiar comfort,

your absence,

now a gaping void.

Finally, you reach out to me,

your voice tinged with little concern,

You ask me what’s wrong

as if you’ve forgotten how

to look in my eyes and

see straight through to my soul.

You know me so well,

but this pain, it’s universal,

even a stranger could tell

what I can’t say aloud—

I still love you.

Do you dare

allow yourself

to dream again?

To hang up old ideas,

masks, and perceptions,

and reshape your vision?

To use

what once was

to alchemize the unseen?

What greatness is

waiting for you on the

other side of your self doubt?

Do you dare

allow yourself

to rise anew?

To become

something more than

you had ever believed true?

the friend that always makes space for you in a conversation. the coworker that asks you questions with intention, hoping to hear your genuine answer because they truly want to understand you just a little bit better. the ones that honor your truth and allow you to show up exactly as you are. the loved one that accepts you unconditionally but still challenges you to be better tomorrow than you were today. the barista that always smiles at you and shares their kindness. sometimes it’s a stranger that gets you out of your head and brings you back into the present. sometimes it’s a stranger that carries you through the most dreadful of days. the friend that offers you loving advice. the friend who makes you laugh. the friend that you can sit in silence with. the friend who knows what you’re saying with a single look. the friends from childhood who have seen you grow from a reckless freckle-faced young girl to a bold and passionate woman— they can tell the eyes of your old soul carry a little more wisdom now. the lover who holds your heart gently and says I know that others have not been graceful with this before but I will not falter. the person who inspires you. the person who believes in you. the person who pours into you. the teachers. the dreamers. the faithful. the trustworthy. the loyal. the brave. the honest. the lovers. the advocates. the creative. the curious. the mindful. the person that is patient with you as you excavate the inner layers of yourself and rediscover the person long buried beneath. the ones that celebrate you. the ones that embrace you. the ones that see you.