I learned some powerful lessons as a child.
And most of them were wrong.
Month: January 2021
If we’re going to be friends, I have a request: Show me your soul, not your shoes.
I’m not interested in who makes your clothes or how much you paid for your car. And I don’t care where you shop, whether designer boutique or discount store.
In the photo, a group of people, women and men – some youngish – stand in shallow water with the ocean splashing their shins. The background is stunning: white sand beach, blue water meets white-frosted blue sky.
The picture contains smiling faces, extended arms, hands clasped upon adjacent shoulders suggesting the familiar. They are prepared for the day on a tropical beach. All, that is, but one.
Her husband passed away.
I read the words sent via text.
Then I read them again.
Less than three weeks prior, we had been seated across from one another at a wedding reception. We were laughing, joking, filling awkward silences with unimportant commentary. He had looked good; healthy, happy.
I was stacking my groceries on the worn, black conveyor belt, preparing them for scan and payment. During such acts, I usually avoid people. An expert selective-listener, I’m very good at ignoring the chaos and chatter around me.
She knew she was dying, and she was scared.
A terminal illness was destroying her from the inside out; her muscles, speech and breathing all waning. Everything except her mind. In that imprisoned space, she was still bright, beautiful and alive.
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