That is what she misses most. Well, perhaps not most, but certainly it is missed. That place where she was good. That view from which she was smart, amazing, beautiful, strong, precious…enough. It is a heady place, that. Being and feeling as if you have risen to the occasion rather than slinking along ashamed for various, innumerable, sometimes hard to keep count of faults.
In that place, in that view, in that space, she was Xena, Marilyn Monroe, and Marie Curie. She was soft and sweet and feminine. She was strong and free and even the loudest of her was wonderful.
No, it is not what she misses the most. But in the end, the missing of it is deep, painful, and tragic.
The not quite not ever place feel just that much more lonely.