. . . because that’s what I am. The rock you can’t see in my hand skipped across the water four times before sinking out of sight. Not brilliant, but respectable, given my form, dance background, and over-all lack of athletic prowess. Also, I’ve given birth–more than once–and that throws EVERYTHING off. So, I’ll take the four skips, and ignore the fact that my husband there in the background managed to double that. I got four skips. That’s good enough for me.
I do what I can do, the best that I can do. My form may be dorky and the results just okay, but it’s me doing it. It’s me putting in the work. It’s me who gets the satisfaction of a job well-done. It was even me nearly throwing my shoulder out trying to beat my husband’s eight skips. Didn’t work. But wasn’t I cute for trying? He thought so. Mostly because he likes me. And that’s good enough for me, too.
It's all true. 🙂
You're my best friend. You know that? 🙂