This is my choice. What am I going to let define me: trials, accolades, sickness, or maybe societal roles?

For me, walking is no longer an automatic, mindless function. I struggle walking, wobbling with each step, anticipating the predictable pain of successive strides.

My home blew up! There was a horrific explosion in Beirut that decimated a whole section of the city leaving people even more homeless, jobless, and hopeless than they were before the blast.

I love to read. Stories fascinate me. When words are juxtaposed just right within a narrative, they jump out at me and I get the “goosies!” I have spiral notebooks full of exquisite phrases and sentences gleaned from reading. These words are powerful. They make me stop and think, mull over a new idea, soak in a relatable epiphany, and absorb a fresh perspective on a familiar concept.

Each morning, I wake up in excruciating pain. I stumble to the tea kettle, turn it on, make myself a cup, and shuffle to my corner chair in the office nook where I sit with my back cushioned by a heating pad.