THE BEAUTY IN BEING

​I have always been one for dramatics. Honestly. I own that.
 
For instance, one of my mom’s favorite stories to tell is about the day I was born. The nurse placed the bundle that I was into her hands and said, “Here’s your daughter. She’s very expressive.”
 
Her face lights up when she quotes the nurse every single time. Then it crumples to express confusion, and she goes on to say, “I asked myself how could she know that? She’s not even a day old?”
 
The story always ends with her gesturing toward me, who’s usually trying to figure out if it’s the 76th or 77th time I’ve heard the story.
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