portrait of a lady

i didn't find her in a gilded picture frame or perched upon a throne. i didn't find her on a magazine cover or squeezed into a dress size.

i found her in the sandbox with her children, in the kitchen basted in flour, in the garden dusted with dirt.
in a soup kitchen laughing perseveringly, in her bedroom weeping over something she's said to offend, in a coffee shop reading to restore herself.

"i can choose to rejoice in my life and its everyday moments, or be constantly disappointed," she told me, pouring me some water.

"every day i take advantage of every second, and see its potentnial. i lower my expectations and raise my hopes. i rest completely in knowing i have the power to choose how i respond. and i choose to celebrate."

in that particular moment, i found myself face to face with the portrait of a lady.