One day, during an EMDR session with my therapist, I saw her - my thirteen year old self. She was so angry and so, so tired. She had spent all of our life, holding my hand, guiding me along the path, vigilant and always alert to any and every potential threat, and working tirelessly to keep us safe. At that moment I took her hand that day and held her like I do my own daughter and she just cried and cried. I thanked her for all the work she had done to keep us safe and for guiding us to this moment; for being so brave, for letting herself finally be seen, and I just cried and cried. I promised her that now I would keep her safe and that she was finally safe enough to rest, that I am safe enough to rest. And now we walk a shared path together, holding each other's hands, and I point out to her the clouds in the sky, the dancing light on the trail, and the blackberries growing on the vines and when we stop to pick the sweet berries she reminds me to mind the thorns.