Fireflies, Bare Feet and Self Love : My Soft, Happy July 2025 via /r/gratitude

This is my journal of a month I spent loving myself differently. This is a letter I wrote at the end of July, full of gratitude full of love, a soft reflection on stillness, nature, healing and how I learned to hold myself with quiet tenderness to find gentleness in my own presence.

A month of bare feet on warm floors, fireflies flickering at the edge of my thoughts and a quiet remembering of who I am beneath everything loud.

I’ve spent so much of this month in stillness sitting under trees, watching the sky change colors, breathing in the scent of rain.

July 2025 for me had been made of rain and roses, willow branches and wind.

This month, I wandered deeper into the interior of things, into the scent of rain on green, into the hush of willow boughs brushing warm summer air, into the strange tenderness of watching fireflies blink.

There were mornings, quiet, lavender lit when I stood in watching dawn lift her scarlet wings.

I have loved myself differently this month. I sat with the scent of raindrops on grass, breathed in the smell of raindrops on green grass, the clean, fresh aroma of a mystic forest and felt it wash over me.

Spent time in my garden of pink roses, lemon balm, chamomile, lavender and rosemary letting their scents calm me. The steam of chamomile in my hands, the rasp of rosemary between my fingers, the lavender I tucked behind my ear.

I walked barefoot through fields where yellow butterflies danced and the grass rolled like the sea.

I wandered through sunsets crimson colors splashed high above in swirls of indigo and violet
while willow boughs whispered to spring and fireflies twinkled in the summer air.

I ran barefoot in pastures, laughed with butterflies, let the wind play with my hair like I was a child again.

Some days I just sat still beneath shading trees, listening to the birds, the hum of bees, the wind in my hair. I watched clouds float by with sun on my face, warmed from above.

There were crisp autumn walks in my soul, even if the world was in summer. Candlelit nights flickering. I spent hours writing poetry on rain filled days or playing the piano.

Peace this month has been my form of self love.

I twirled in moonlight, a red glittering dress in firelight, dancing, laughing, losing track of time.

I ran through pastures with birds singing and butterflies dancing I let snowflakes fall in my hair in dreams of long winter days.

I stood beneath icicles and pine trees inhaling the spicy, ancient scent. I sat quietly by the pond, on a red clay ledge watching dragonflies skim the water, listening to the creek bubble, the sky deepen.

Sometimes, I was the girl in the skirt twirling, laughing fast, dancing bright, losing track of time.
Stars peeking, fireflies blinking, dress shimmering red. Music playing, hands clapping, heart pounding, joy spilling. Gasping breathless by the fire until morning. Then everything silent. Only peace remained.

And on one morning, as the world felt soft and lavender, I stood still, breathed in the silence and stared in awe as the sun rose on scarlet wings crimson against a lavender sky and I felt something holy bloom inside me.

I smiled, prayed and breathed. I kissed sunsets with my eyes. I sighed in love with my Creator. I danced with the dawn. I whispered to the trees.

And in that hush, I knew I shine in His light. I told my Creator: Thank You for the sacredness of this breath.

This July, I witnessed rain as symphony. Drums on the roof, serenades on the windows a ballet of angelic drops dancing in my garden. A spectacle I could watch forever.

For me July 2025 was made of little things, gentle, honest, golden things. Made of rain songs and pine scented breezes of firefly twinkles and soft hands, of prayers whispered into tea steam, of poetry that nobody needed to understand but me.

A quiet bloom in the garden of my own soul. Grateful. Whole. Loved in firefly light and rainlight, under cloud songs and firefly skies.

I lived entire lives in poetry this month. Wandering through willow groves and lavender skies, sat beside creeks, twirling in moonlight, dancing around fires, let raindrops write sonnets on my skin.

I looked for God in everything, in butterflies, in pine trees, in the hush of my piano key.

Maybe no one around me noticed. Maybe it all looked quiet from the outside. But inside July 2025 was a symphony for me. A gentle masterpiece.

I’ve cried, healed, created, loved, prayed, surrendered, hoped. And I’m not done yet. There’s more peace to plant in the gardens of my soul.

I made this world for you too. A world where phones fall away, where breath slows, where you can hear yourself think again, feel again, dream again.

Sit in the grass. Let the clouds drift, the creek sing and your heart remember.

Because here in the hush of trees, in the lullaby of wind, in the beauty of rain everything true and gentle the warmth you forgot begins to glow again, what’s real drifts back like wildflowers in the wind. The light returns in softer shades.

This world is a canvas. And we every barefoot, dancing, stargazing one of us are part of the masterpiece.

There’s a part of me stitched from wildflowers and summer rain, from scarlet wings at dawn and the hush of twilight by the creek. A part of me that blooms in silence, far from screens, wrapped in firefly light and whispering leaves.

That part of me belongs to nature and I’ve decided to live there more often.