leave at your own chosen speed.

As I sat by myself at the Flying M coffee shop, pretending to read my book, I subtly eavesdropped into the conversation of the two knitters sitting on the couch across from me.

“So what was your best year?” said the first women. “Ninth grade for sure,” came the reply. “I went to a three year highschool, so in ninth grade we were the big dogs. We had a lot of fun that year.”

I sat and thought about this. I came to the conclusion that this women has done a great disservice to her own life, if ninth grade was the highlight of her entire life. How could that even be? In ninth grade you don’t know anything about poetry, or art, or music, or food, or sex, or anything!

I hope that I live a life with so much beauty in it that, when I look back, I won’t be able to decide which year was best.

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