I hesitate,
watching as you empty a packet of raw sugar
into your black coffee.
Our silence is broken
as your spoon slowly twirls against the glass.
The sugar disintegrates.
You briefly flash me a smile as you grab another packet. 

You think I’m judging you. 

But all I’m thinking about is asking you
this one question.

I write.
I put it out there.
I write.
I put it out there.

Sometimes social media feels like a school auditorium
filled with people on stacked-up boxes,
screaming into megaphones.
Trying to be heard.
To be noticed.
To be whole in a world full of pieces.

     When I hear stories like the one I am about to share with you, I feel deeply inspired. It reminds of something my grandfather once told me that changed my life. I was in my early twenties, working two jobs and going to school full-time. I had made peace with the fact that life was hard and to accomplish anything, I needed to put my head to the grindstone.
 
But I was sick. A lot. And exhausted.
 
And then my grandfather put his hand on my shoulder and said as a matter-of-fact,

I feel like I'm dreaming. Actually, now that I think about it, I feel this way often. I look around at my life and wonder how I got to be so lucky. And then I remember-it wasn't luck that brought me here, but hard work and faith.

I made this happen.