One sunny morning, years ago, found me in port in Cozumel, where moments before my husband and I had disembarked the Norwegian Pearl. To my right were shops, whistles from “Senor Frogs,” and proprietors trying to convince us that their wares and prices were best. Ahead, I saw pockets. Following my husband through the crowded walkway, where walking side-by-side was impossible, I had the strangest thought… I have spent my entire life following a man.
I recently dusted off my writings about this experience, asking my husband to read the piece in preparation for a blog post.
“What did you think?” I asked as he turned the computer back to me.
“I have to say it’s not one of my favorites. This isn’t who you are; you’re not a subservient follower.”
He’s absolutely right. I am not a subservient follower. I hadn’t realized that someone might read my piece and come away with that impression. I am a product of the sixties and seventies, the early days of the equal rights movement. I was fortunate to have good male role models and mentors in my life. I am equally fortunate to have had good female role models and mentors. I drew from their influence and experience while forging my own identity.
One of the greatest challenges I face in my pursuit of writing is exploring the breadth and depth of the words I put on the page. More than once, a beta reader has come away with a different perception of a piece than the one I intended. I am still, in my fifth decade, very much a student of life, learning and growing as I follow the footsteps along the path. But that path is no longer limited to my local community. That path now leads to the information superhighway, where the experiences and issues of life are as vast as the wide world.
I recently joined an online project management group, and I was asked in the welcome message to provide my definition of success. I quoted from a Reba McEntire song in my response: “Who I am is who I want to be.” I have been blessed over the years to have the benefit of watching those who walked the path ahead of me, following in their footsteps. Still, I have not stepped exactly as they stepped. In places along the journey, my footsteps stand apart from theirs, or leave their path entirely for a time. My choices, although shaped by their experience, differ and set me apart.
I am grateful to those who have encouraged me throughout the years; loved ones, teachers, friends, and colleagues who saw what I couldn’t see and encouraged me to be, and do, more than I ever imagined. These dear souls enriched my life, taught me the importance of loyalty and respect, urged me to own and learn from my mistakes, and encouraged me to face my fears and step outside of my comfort zone.
As I think again about that day in Cozumel, I realize just how much of my story is shaped by what I learned from those whose steps I followed. I am at the same time grateful and terrified by that thought; if I followed others, who might be following me? As I continue my journey, I can only pray that my steps remain steady and sure, both for my sake and the sake of those who share the path.
Copyright 2016 Sherry A. Hathaway. All rights reserved.