The Swan

When I was about eight years old I saw a mother swan defending her cygnets from a  rather non-threatening mutt on a leash.  It was a beautiful sight to behold–her wings spread, flapping toward the dog with gusto and aggression–but the sound was atrocious.  Somewhere between a honk and a scream.  This is how I’ve come to think of myself at times–sometimes beautiful, always caring and protective, but God bless what comes out of my mouth.  Or in this case, off my hands clicking a keyboard.

For anyone who really cares, I’m a woman in her mid-thirties whose early career was in “healthcare” and who now finds herself staring at the precipice of unemployment as a new military wife.  Marrying my husband was the best decision I ever made in my life.  Dying my hair blonde a decade ago was a less-than-great decision.  Everything else falls somewhere in between the two.  Home is a relative term.  I’ve now lived in five states and four non-US countries.  I think of myself as a person from upstate New York and home is now where the military sends us.

My training in life was in public health but my battles are with personal health.  While I don’t officially devote myself only to this topic in my writing, I do find that it captures the bulk of my attention and is often reflected with or without intention.  Here’s to hoping others who struggle find an ally in me or can help lift me where I am weak.  To your health.

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