It began as letters from a girl who knew the difference between safe and not safe before she had words for either one, written to the woman she becomes.
What happens when a woman stops abandoning what she knows to be true? And what becomes possible when we do the same for the children in our lives?
I want to tell you, whoever you become, that I already knew the difference between safe and not safe before I had words for either one.
My stomach knew. My skin knew.
Nobody had to teach me that part.
Damara did not study her way to what these pages hold. She lived it, across decades, and the understanding arrived later, the way it always does, in its own time and in cocreation with something larger than one life. It was lived, and then received.
Each chapter of this book is a letter from the younger self to the wise woman she becomes. These pages are the envelope.
When the book is nearly in your hands, a small circle will gather around it: a first room of readers walking the manuscript home.
The invitation is still taking shape. If you would like to be near when it opens, the letters on the last page are the way in.
Written when there is something true to say, and only then. Never noise. One letter at a time, sent to your inbox.