#triggerwarningabuse

When it happened, I was wearing my favorite nightgown.  It was knee length, white, with a ruffle at the bottom, tiny buttons, and absolutely ethereal.  For an 8 year old anyway.   It made me feel like a princess or a cupcake when I twirled, which we all know, is one of the best feelings.  

It crossed my mind the other day that of all the things that were taken from me in those few short minutes, I miss that nightgown.  Even though I think that I have moved forward, that all involved have been forgiven (because that anger and rage I carried finally became too heavy), I keep coming back to this.  I have not worn a white nightgown since that night. 

I have resolved to buy one for myself this year.  Along with adorable shorts (they must be adorable), a crop top and a bikini.  

While this purchase has a lot more emotional attachment/baggage tied to it than the others, I feel, deep down, that it is time.  Time to really realize what was taken.  Time to mourn all the possibilities that were lost that night.  And so many nights that followed.