Listen To Your Mother

Behind the curtains, I stood and waited my turn. I was like a 5th grader waiting in line to have her picture made~brushing through my hair, sucking in ever so slightly, and rocking back and forth on my heels. 

I walked to the podium. Lights blinded me and I was glad. I stood tall. I had a story to tell. I read my piece. I cried. I read some more. I cried. I did it.
I walked off the stage, feeling very proud to go the right direction. Benjamin told me my sister heard me. I cried some more. I was in shock that I had read my story in front of all of those people. 

A bit of my soul was now floating around the Strand. I wasn't sure how I felt about it. I listened to everyone's beautiful stories and I still wasn't sure about mine. 
The bows and applause ended. The lights faded and I headed off the stage looking for my family. The nerves had not left me as I inched through the crowd. A woman came over and said, "Your sister is my sister. Thank you for sharing your story." She hugged me. I cried. Another woman came and put her hands on my shoulders, "My sister is my best friend. I love her the way you love your sister. Your story spoke to me." Another woman came over, "I loved your story. You are so brave."

The nerves skated out of me. At that moment, I knew I had done the right thing. I'm so glad I told my story. I'm so thankful for the experience. I'm forever grateful to Listen To Your Mother for the opportunity, the friendships, and the encouragement to tell my story. 

More to come.

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