They say your life is a thread, weaving its way through

Life.

Your thread touches every other thread at least once.

Or more than once.

More than twice, even.

Leaving a mark, making a connection,

Like a handprint on the heart, the

Soul.

There are too many threads to count.

Which ones leave the handprints?

Which ones are more than a fleeting hello?

The ones that have been there for forever,

Suddenly leave, and you find new

Threads.

New lives.

There have been hundreds, even thousands.

Each one different from the last, but each one leaving a

Lasting impact.

A woman who suffered for a year with breast cancer.

I see her thread touching the lives of other people,

Showing them that it’s okay to be weak, but that doesn’t make you any less

Strong.

A man who shattered his drawing hand in an accident.

He now illustrates his own books with that self same hand,

Carefully inking line after line in an intricate pattern that only he can

See.

A group of people, fleeing from hate.

They try and build lives only to have them torn down by hateful men.

They walked through hell, only to look up and

Smile.

My thread weaves through the loom of fate,

In a pattern I can’t yet see.

I can’t choose just one thread to explain

Who I am today.

From parents to teachers to historical figures to fictional characters,

Each one has shaped me into me.

And I can’t wait to see where my thread takes me

Next.