I want to be the brave girl, the strong one, the bad-ass I profess myself to be. Don’t the signs, angels, faith, and therapy win me some place at the front of the line?

Will I ever be an Olympic champion of life? I want to overcome grief in a single splash, but I keep swimming. I’m in the pool practicing my strokes. Why does grief knock me off my game?!

I yearn for my intentions to match my reality. Yet, I’m still on my knees. Crying.