every part of me is borrowed. My father’s rage, my mother’s empathy, my first girlfriend’s sense of adventure and wonder. My grandmother’s hope for the world. My little sister’s bravery. My boyfriend’s sharp wit, the little girl from my preschool class’s love of all living things. I’m not sure if anything is uniquely mine. When i was a kid i would sit and wonder if anyone was thinking the same thing as me at the same time, now I know that someone out there is. Maybe some find it sad to not be one of a kind, but i think it’s beautiful. We all lean on each other, strangers or friends. The impact people leave on each other is beautiful. Strangers in the grocery store with pretty smiles, old ladies in the park feeding the birds and squirrels, a father seeing his baby for the first time. The world seems so ugly until you squint and pay closer attention.
