The Race
I was texting back and forth with a friend who was telling me something that was bothering him.
In response, I tell him, “I have a strange amount of sources for a regular girl. I can always fix things like that for you.”
I thought the conversation was over, so I set down my Blackberry.
(Side note: I love my Blackberry!)
Anyway…
A few minutes later I look down to see where I have missed a message from him.
And all I can see is, “How dare you…”
My heart sank.
I panicked, thinking, what did I say?
So I grabbed the phone to click the message open and see that he has said.
What I thought was bad, was really sweet.
“How dare you call yourself regular!”
And I don’t know why, but that made me laugh so hard!
That’s even what I told him, “I laughed so hard you’d be ashamed!”
And I’m sure he laughed too!
But you know what?
It took me a long time to learn to surround myself with people who don’t treat me like I’m a regular girl.
I mean, I am a regular girl to most of the world. That much is true.
But shouldn’t we all have the small group that treats us like we are irregular?
OK, well maybe that wasn’t the word I was looking for, but you get what I mean!
To this friend I am usually Chula. Sometime Mami.
I don’t even know what either one means, but I can tell they are good by how he says them.
And I used to push those people away and try to convince others to treat me special.
Until I learned to recognize the good around me. Recognize and accept it. No longer chasing what I did not need.
Like with my father for instance. I chased after that love for years. And it was just not to be.
And while I was busy doing that, I was missing out on so many of the joys of life.
Joy that was there all along.
Joy that I could not see because I was turned around running in the wrong direction.
You may cross the finish line if you run backwards long enough, but you’ll never win the race.
