“Have no fear of perfection — you’ll never reach it.”
—Salvador Dali
Today’s story is from Elisabeth Hirsch.
Nerdy. Needy. In my own skin uneasy. My name is Elisabeth. When I was a teen, I was awkward back then. Stumbled on stones. Uneasy in groups. Tongue-tied with cute boys. Even my clothes didn’t look right.
But here’s the thing. It didn’t make sense. My mom was voted homecoming queen when she was my age. And Dad? Handsome. Confident. Suave. He always knew what to do, what to say. No wonder. My father was a star quarterback when he was my age.Mom and Dad just didn’t “get me” — especially Dad. For him it had always been easy. Day after day, he soared through life. Touchdown. Score! Whatever Dad did, crowds seemed to roar.
While me? One fumble after another. The world watched me stumble through life. Until it happened. Dad and I went for groceries. Walking into the store, Dad’s foot caught on the rug. Face-first toward the tile floor he plunged, as others looked on. READ MORE