The Day She Changed

It was not extreme. In fact, it came gradually, like the change of seasons: The pinkish summer sunsets come earlier and earlier; street lamps turn on by five o'clock; the air conditioning stops and a fire is built; each leaf on the outside tree metamorphose to red, orange, and brown, then pulls from it's mother limbs and falls away, while the warm comfort of summer lulls into cool, brisk autumn. That is how it came.

She did not regard the change, until piece by piece it finally began to break, fragments of self poison evanescing from view, and evolved and new she began to surface. Wild, dark eyes lit with determination and confidence, no longer living in that parculiar, tempest like past. She smiled because it was okay. Her expression seemed to tell the world, "I can do it, now. Whatever it is, I can do it. Whatever you throw at me, I can take it. I'm here. I am; I am; I am."

It was nothing extreme, but she knew it had happened all the same. She knew, and felt a flood of alleviation through her viens, because it had happened, that day, and she had changed.