When I was a girl, I knew an old woman.
She had a magic.
A way of knowing.
The strength of a person’s will.
She was quiet. She watched. She listened. She smiled.
Privately, she would give me summation.
Weak willed. Strong willed. Willful. With or without will power.
I would like to say she didn’t judge. It sounds nicer. But she did.
She didn’t dismiss the weak of will, but she did not trust them.
They had not the power to assert sheer force of will in their own lives.
How would they behave in hers?
I loved her but thought this mean spirited.
I told her so.
I told her everything.
“I ain’t scared a you.”
She loved to hear me say that.
It was our joke.
She adored me.
She trained me.
“The worst thing you can do to a child is break their will.”
She was right. Of course.
Once stolen, no one can give it back to you.
Build yours again.
Be who you are.
Or better still…
Be who you want to be.