Falling Down

I guess I fell down a lot when I was a kid. I guess my mom was there to pick me up. I don’t really remember because my life was not like this commercial. I wasn’t a wanna be Olympic athlete, driven to best all others, to test myself beyond endurance. In fact, I don’t remember ‘excelling’ at much of anything beyond Grade Six.

So how did I become who I am given my mother was not consumed with my life? I think I became who I am because my mother was consumed with the question of her own.

When I was growing up, my mother excelled at pushing her own boundaries, both creative and intellectual. She excelled at being her own person, despite being a stay-at-home mother of six. She excelled at searching for a deeper meaning in her life, and not settling for what was expected of her.

I watched my mom fall down and pick herself up enough times to know that I could do the same. And maybe that’s the gift. She shows me what strength and perseverance and determination and independence look like and because of that, I’m not afraid to fall down. I’m not afraid. I have the strength of my mother in reserve, and it is perpetual.