Chapter 7 - THE PIECE WORTH KEEPING
The following spring, Second Chapter House held its annual fundraiser.
The expansion grant had helped launch a new employment program specifically for women over fifty.
I wore a midnight blue jacket.
Inside the collar, I’d sewn a small patch cut from the only salvageable piece of my gown.
Evelyn Grant attended as honorary chair.
So did Melissa.
Mark didn’t.
Before I went onstage, Evelyn noticed the patch.
“You kept it.”
“Just the part worth keeping.”
She smiled.
“Good policy for fabric.”
Then she paused.
“And people.”
I laughed.
She wasn’t wrong.
For years, I had confused being needed with being loved.
People can need your cooking.
Your money.
Your time.
Your patience.
Your forgiveness.
They can need you to remember appointments.
Make reservations.
Watch children.
Settle arguments.
And find the batteries.
That doesn’t necessarily mean they value the person doing all of it.
Strangely, I’m grateful Patricia cut that gown.
Not because it led to an award.
I already had the award.
Not because Evelyn Grant embarrassed my family.
She never did.
Patricia managed that perfectly well without professional assistance.
I’m grateful because the disrespect finally became too obvious to explain away.
I used to believe dignity was something people gave you by treating you well.
At fifty-two, I learned it’s also something you protect when they don’t.
May you like
If you’ve ever had someone call your dream little simply because it didn’t belong to them, maybe you understand why I kept that piece of blue fabric.
And if you do, I’d love to hear what finally made you stop shrinking your life for somebody else.
