Her

Once upon a time there was a girl who hated boredom because she read a poem once about how curiosity didn’t kill the cat.

She moved mountains and warm fronts and tectonic plates.

She fought pirates, poverty, and the common cold.

She saved the damsel, the prince, the evil king, and herself.

She found God, the Devil, the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker.

She hopped, skipped, jumped, cartwheeled, nosedived, and soared.

She felt much, hated little, and loved most of all.

She failed and fell and learned to keep Band-Aids in her back pocket and a story up her sleeve for a rainy day.

She didn’t want, but she made sure to need, because needing was what kept her going.

And at the end of it all they took her memories and bottled them up and called them dementia, because surely no one lives a life that full anymore what with speed dating and conference calls to keep us occupied in a world where “slowing down” means carving out an hour and a half to watch the brand new Rom-com that’s come out a dozen times already.

But I believe her.

And I decided a long time ago that she’s who I want to be when I grow up.

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