Somehow, every day, we tuck our personal life--with all of its challenges, confusions, inner battles--into the folds of our lined or linen work pants. We powder our cheeks, line our eyes, purse our glazed lips and take a last look into our own eyes, windows decorating the vessel that carries us to our next act in life--8-4, Sunday through Thursday.
It's perseverence some days that keeps us in the game. That temptation to just call in but nevertheless sweeping our skirt into the bucket seat of our car and slamming the door. Seeming to say "let's f*&^ do this already."
Because life doesn't stop. Because breathing is one thing and movement is another--they marry into a fire of experience.
Scan your badge, open the door and smile at the people you meet. No matter what they do, how they react, smile. Dance a second around that fire between you. Tell them somehow, whisper to them with your eyes, that you tucked yourself in, too.