Miriam was beside me.
Patricia stood near the front row, smiling proudly.
She had moved into a small apartment in town six months earlier and now volunteered at the project twice a week.
Several local officials attended.
A representative from the conservation organization spoke about protecting the mountain watershed.
Our program director described the people the project had helped.
Then she introduced me.
I stepped toward the microphone.
I had prepared a speech.
Three pages.
Carefully written.
Neatly typed.
But when I looked out at the gathered faces, I suddenly knew I couldn’t read it.
I folded the pages.
And spoke from my heart.
“Two years ago,” I began, “I arrived here with two suitcases and almost no idea what I was going to do next.”
The crowd grew quiet.
“My husband had died.
My family relationships were falling apart.
And I believed I had reached the age when my usefulness was measured by how little space I took up.”
