Growing up, I was always the quiet one, the melancholy, overweight, forgetful child who was sensitive but irresponsible. I cultivated bad habits. I ate too much. I was frequently told that I didn't have what it takes, that my personality type or my character didn't match the needs of a world which demands excellence.
I have never liked to be pigeonholed.
On this monday morning, I feel so very far away from home. During college, I learned much about noting details, of getting things done, of reaching accomplishment. I can go to meetings, make plans, and find a way to achieve. I have been trusted with the time and money of others, and I have done my best to administer such trusts with care. Somehow, the things I touch seem to succeed.
What happened to the little boy? Somewhere along the way, I wiped my eyes, dried my nose, and got to work. But have I also lost my capacity for delight?