He held her hand in his; she was reminded of a song where the spaces in between his fingers were perfectly filled with hers. It seemed to be true in their case too. Sometimes she, when he was near and it was still, would just sit and memorize every part of who she knew him to be. When he discovered her eyes on him, he would smile with a knowing smile. He wouldn’t look away though from his book or article, and she continued on with her gaze, encouraged by the wrinkles that lit up his eyes with his amusement of her.
How had I come to believe, that the deep things of my heart and mind were not important? Who told me they didn’t care about the things I was feeling or thinking about? The truth of the matter was, that no one actually said I don’t care about what you think or feel, they just never bothered to ask. Never being asked is another way to let someone know that they are not valued. In response to some of the most important people in my life not bothering to pursue my young heart and mind, I believed I had nothing to offer or give that would be of any value to anyone else. I believed I was stupid. I heard it over and over in my heart and head with out a second of doubt of its truth. Not until my twenty sixth year did the truth that I believed about myself reveal it’s self as a lie. There were six of us who met each week, five younger women and our leader, a woman the five of us had approached to ask if she would be willing to let us learn from her and be mentored and guided ...
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