A few weeks ago, I began my 47th year walking through the B concourse of the Atlanta airport. It was just before dawn; the sun had yet to rise, and my bright yellow carry-on (borrowed from my husband) rolled along beside me. This past year has been one of the more difficult ones, but as I glanced at the clock on the wall, the feeling of a new day washed over me.
It's time to finish it
It's time to finish it
It's time to finish it
A few weeks ago, I began my 47th year walking through the B concourse of the Atlanta airport. It was just before dawn; the sun had yet to rise, and my bright yellow carry-on (borrowed from my husband) rolled along beside me. This past year has been one of the more difficult ones, but as I glanced at the clock on the wall, the feeling of a new day washed over me.