I am alive – I guess -/ The Branches on my Hand/ Are full of Morning Glory -/ And at my finger’s end -// The Carmine – tingles warm -/ And if I hold a Glass/ Across my Mouth – it blurs it -/ Physician’s – proof of Breath -// I am alive – because/ I am not in a Room -/ The Parlor – Commonly – it is -/ So Visitors may come -/ And lean – and view it sidewise -/ And add “How cold – it grew” – And “Was it conscious – when it stepped/ In Immortality?”// I am alive – because/ I do not own a House -/ Entitled to myself – precise -/ And fitting no one else -// And marked my Girlhood’s name -/ So Visitors may know/ Which Door is mine – and not mistake – And try another Key -/ How good – to be alive! How infinite – to be/ Alive – two fold – The Birth I had – And this – besides, in – Thee!

Emily Dickinson

Life is a gift. I live with the genetic condition Turner syndrome. Roughly two percent of babies diagnosed with Turner syndrome will survive birth. My life was improbable and has always felt a bit miraculous. That truth brings into sharp focus that all life is miraculous. I knock on doors and hike glaciers. I visit healing waters and write books. I run marathons and devour curiosity. I serve others and finish big goals.

The improbable allows me to live in the Infinite. I am more abundance than lack. I am more “yes” than “no.” I am more determination than excuse. I am more distance than sprint. I am more light than dark. I am more questions than answers. I am more fire than ice. I am more music than noise. I am alive – I know.