Missteps sound sweeter in French, don't you think...more like a a fine cheese than a flub.
"Would you like to try a slice of my faux pas? It is delicious on a cracker."
Today was sullied with the sloppy tread marks of my sundry missteps. At every turn I felt silly. My decisions felt clunky. My judgement cloudy. More than once I asked,
"What was I thinking?"
I am learning to be more gentle with myself, but my inner critic is a brat. She is such a brat.
When watching Grey's Anatomy a few years ago, my mom remarked of the self-flagellating and brutally ambitious medical interns,
"They remind me of you."
And I agreed.
Softly, softly, softly. I am only human. You are only human. We are only human.
The one thing I did unequivocally right today? I pulled my car over to the side of the road on my way home from Days Market. I stood beneath the lilacs and inhaled. As I floated in the fog of that sweet scent, I felt joy in being only human.
This. Of all things. My small violet victory.