She Came Down A Sunbeam
It traces a love that appeared in a brief, luminous moment, then vanished before it could be understood. Through years of silence and uncertainty, an invisible thread keeps tugging, suggesting that some connections live beyond explanation. In the end, it offers the feeling that what is truly meant for us will return—quietly, inevitably, and in its own time.
LOVE
J.K.E.
2/14/20262 min read
I fell in love with you
the moment I laid eyes on you.
You were a toddler.
And I fell—head over heels—
into something ancient,
only my bones understood.
There was resemblance, yes…
but you were more luminous,
as if you had glided down
from the sun itself—
soft, golden,
already carrying a light
I did not yet have words for.
I wanted to protect you.
To watch over you.
To learn, somehow,
how to be your safey.
But before I could even understand
what that meant—
you were gone.
No explanation.
No warning.
No footsteps to follow.
Only silence.
And a trace so faint
I questioned my own memory.
For years, I wondered
if you had ever truly existed—
or if you were a yearning
my heart created
to survive its own ache.
I watched friends with sisters
and envied their miracle—
their easy belonging,
their shared history.
And in time,
to be gentler with my own mind,
I told myself
you were never real.
But you were...
You reached for me.
You reached through old doors—
through our father—
and only silence answered.
Not, perhaps, from lack of love,
but from the weight, the shame
of what he could not face.
There are stories
we may never fully understand.
There are hurts
we are not meant to unravel—
only to witness,
and hold differently over time.
Still…
underneath
something was stirring.
Quietly.
Steadily.
Without permission.
A thread
neither of us could see
grew stronger, brighter.
Across years.
Across distance.
Across every version
of what we were told to forget.
Love kept finding us—
in unanswered questions,
in the ache that would not leave,
in the small voice that kept saying:
...it is still there.
It waits.
It endures.
It calls us back
when we are ready to hear it.
It was inevitable, wasn’t it?
That love would find a way.
And here we are—
not beginning,
not ending,
but continuing
Writing another chapter,
placing the pen in each other’s hands.
Not forcing the sentence,
but giving the page enough space
Dear sister,
we have always been guided
by the light of love—
arriving in the right time,
the right place,
and here I am falling in love with you all over again...