I am not grateful for the hallway.
I am clear-eyed about what it cost me and what it took from me and the specific years I spent managing the distance between my face and what I actually felt.
But I am
also clear-eyed about what I became.
And what I became is someone who walked into a hotel ballroom that had organized itself around excluding her.
And paid at the door.
And walked in.
And talked to the people who needed to be talked to.
And accepted an apology she did not expect.
And gave a card to a woman who needed to know there was a room for her.
And walked out at ten-thirty feeling like herself.
Completely.
For the first time since the last time she was sixteen and the hallway had not yet decided anything.
That was the whole thing.
And it was everything.
