Around this time last year, I posted about my 1 year anniversary of giving up those wicked little sticks I’d depended upon for more than half of my life. The focus of those posts was what had and hadn’t worked, since 2 years ago wasn’t the first, second, or even 8th time I’d given up smoking. This morning, though, out for a run with Chris (during which, incidentally, my lungs didn’t hurt one bit), I got to thinking about a seminal point in my last so-far-successful attempt. That moment so deeply affected my success to this point – and quite a lot of other things in my life, to be honest – I thought it warranted a post all its own.
As a manager at the Y, I had what I thought of as the A-Team for a little while. There were hiccups, of course – sick leave, temporary transfers, etc. But when we were a team – and, really, it was more about when they were a team – it was magical. Three very different women with such remarkably disparate gifts to offer, I couldn’t have hand-picked a better trio. The eldest of them, C, was – is – an extraordinary person. Her life could fill not less than three novels, and her experience was infused with a depth of understanding the rest of us were and are still working on.