She looked over the records where her notes collected over time from our weekly meetings.  Dark brunette cut shoulder length, glasses, with tattoos hidden under her blouse.  The artwork spread all over her shoulders, and down her back wrapped around her thin frame.  She was strong-willed with a mind like a steel trap. It was the details she craved.  With severe back problems from childhood, she pushed through her hidden pain.  Every month she took injections to cut the pain, only once a month would she be forced to rely on a cane.  Younger than myself, I could never understand how something so irritating could happen so soon to a woman.

Posted on the walls behind her were diplomas for a Bachelors and Masters degree in social work and medical policy, a Molly Pitcher award for leading military wives at Ft. Bliss, Texas.  It wasn’t only how cute she was; some of it was her intelligence, most of it was how she rebelled against the mainstream.  She was a pistol, and no one fucked with her.  Being the lowest pay grade on the scale, she didn’t have high-profile responsibilities.

To read more, click on this link….The Only Exception.

For her, here is Paramore’s “The only exception.”  Enjoy.