Close Your Eyes and Jump

When I was a little girl being brave meant being willing to jump into a big hole without knowing what was at the bottom, or riding a two wheeler with my hands in the air and my feet on the handle bars; in short, I ran with a crowd who confused bravery with stupidity. I am a grown-up now, or at least it says so on my tax return, and I realize that being brave has nothing to do with deliberately putting oneself in danger. It isn't about proving to the people around me that I am willing to risk my life for the right of passage. Being brave is well more than walking up to the house where the lady with too many cats lives and ringing the bell. Being brave is choosing to do the right thing when no one does it with you. It is standing for the truth when lies are so much more comfortable. It is saying no when yes will bring you accolades, and saying yes when no will keep your name out of the fray. Being brave is telling the people you love that you screwed up and you're sorry, or that they screwed up but you love them anyway. It is knowing that you are not always there to make friends, sometimes you are there to make a difference, even if it makes enemies. In short being brave is living like you matter. Because you do.