Power

We were sharing almond butter-filled pretzels, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun in the kitchen, when David started listing animals with special powers:

“”Sharks’ power is that they can swim. Penguins’ power is that they are not cold. Cheetahs’ power is they run fast…”

“What about us, humans?” I interrupted.

David paused and grinned at me.

I insisted, “I am serious — what about us?”

“Our power is that we are normal,” he said, then continued with his list of animals.

That line stuck with me: our power is that we are normal.

Growing up, I was insecure about my lack of skills. Many kids in my class played an instrument, roller-skated, had great singing voices, or could draw beautifully. My parents never sent me to after-school programs — expect for Olympic math camps. I never signed up for talent shows. Nobody wanted to watch me solve complex math problems on stage.

At some point in adulthood, that insecurity faded. I slowly grew into an embrace of my normality. I can’t sing on beat or run with good form, but I am moved by good music and enjoy playing tennis. I’ve never beaten Chris at chess or mastered the art of drawing, but I find joy in thinking and expressing my sense of color and patterns through clothing and home decor.

I find great comfort in knowing that life can be rich and fun, even without a special talent.

Son, you were right about our power. Please use it well.