Amidst packing my mind is wandering through words. Not written words, individual words. The words my grandfather tried to live by, and the words that defined him. The words I have attempted to live by; at times failing so miserably. (Yes that’s a semicolon.)
Some words are noble and inspire. Yet to some a single noble word is more threatening than an entire essay. Why? Is it the fear of expectations unfulfilled? Promises longed for, never to be realized? But that is the essence of life.
All of us fail more often than we succeed, but it is not the failure that defines us. It is what we do after the failure that defines us.
And that is not a word, that is heart.