I have a spot reserved in my heart for the small voice that speaks at the exact moment the yammering crowd silences –when the noise parts and the small voice says the thing everyone is to afraid to say—and usually the last thing I want to admit.
Finally.
Sort of.
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by Jill MacGregor The measure of who we are is what we do with what we have. ~Vince Lombardi
I have found myself running into the girl I used to be lately. You may think that must mean some carefree version of myself, untethered by serious adult themes but that would not be the case. I have been practicing being strong with my least strong part. My weakest part. I map its boundaries, feel out it’s yes and no and then try to push past… She knew. I am a confident driver. Out of my way—yield to me. That feeling you have, other driver? It’s you knowing in your core that I have the right of way… I’m learning a big lesson right now, I think. About fighting. I love to fight—fight for what’s right—or better—fight to BE right. |
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