My life experiences have done more than just allow me the opportunity to perfect the fetal ball. Additionally, they have given me insight into how plot twists, rising conflict and unresolved love triangles shape us all. They have reminded me that if I want to know someone’s story, I can’t just make up my own version for them, if I want to know, I need to ask.
While witnessing this moment of unabashed reverence, I was reminded again how fortunate I’ve been to have a father like my dad, and a mother like my mom. Watching him in the predawn dark, made me think back to all those long ago winter mornings of my youth. It was often still dark when I’d stumble up the stairs from my basement bedroom, weak with sleep, dragging my blanket behind me as I climbed. Predictably, I’d find my dad in his underwear, kneeling in front of the brick fireplace steadily blowing life into the beginning sparks of a new flame.
“Courage is not born from effortless immaculate conception. Courage is conceived in terrifying moments of raw bravery. Courage keeps pace with fear. It is barely one step ahead, and sometimes the race seems so close you wonder who will cross the finish line first.”
We had been locked in a dead sprint towards the finish line, trying to keep up or catch up, or just not fall. “We just have to get through these last few weeks…” I’d say to myself over and over agains as I ran around finding props for plays, or making cupcakes for the banquet, throwing his white dress shirt into the dryer with a damp towel again and again so he’d appear unwrinkled, care for.
“You gotta try your luck at least once a day, because you could be going around lucky all day and not even know it.” – […]