Normal

It was being nice and standardizing yourself to fit in

But there she sat in her worn out old navy boot legged jeans

With her eyes on the board and some ink machine in her hand

There were curves and lines and colors

On the board

On her body

She spoke to herself, “I think I got It”

Turned around and shared her illegible numbers on a loose leaf

With me

Her smile shined with content

She tried her hardest and found an answer

It didn’t matter who starred in wonder

Judging her for her brain; how fast it worked, how clever it was

Didn’t matter to her because she got somewhere with it

I glanced back and forth from her notes to the black screened, white bordered, shiny phone hidden underneath the desk

“Well,” I thought , “I’m in this class for a reason. She’s in this class for a reason.”

The glance

From her notes to my hidden phone

To the other 20 students in the class

All her friends (not mine)

All part of the top 10% of the school

With me

What is normal

I started to question the definition

She’s still approachable

She’s still intelligent

She didn’t try to act a little dumber

She had her faults, true

But she was honest about them by asking “stupid” questions in class

Though the questions weren’t often

This is the natural humility

She’s respected by the smarter and not as smart

Because she doesn’t define herself anywhere in between

Normal? Ha.

Don’t restrict yourself to a definition