The Northerner.

She woke. Salt coated her eyelashes, for she had been discarded, tossed into the sea with her wounds open, stinging with the cold.

But like a piece of sea glass, her edges became smooth, beaten by the waves. The tide crashed over her and the wind whispered her name.

In that moment, the cracks in her life felt raw and unfixable, her heart was left with a square shaped hole and only a round peg to fill it.

But she was made of this. She was born from the waves, raised by the wind. Her eyes were full of the light from the moon and the stars and her heart, though broken, remained full as she pours her love into this world. Battered but unbeaten, she rose with ferocity, each bad experience an opportunity for rebirth.

She builds herself back together. Bandaging over the cracks, recreating herself after every blow.

For she is a northerner. Made of sterner stuff, a fierce yet gentle soul. A treasure on the sand of a freezing beach, waiting to be found, she finds

herself.