Eggs

On Sundays, I walk an hour to Nazareth to tutor a group of students. Then, I walk an hour home.

This village is larger than mine, meaning there are a few more shops with a larger selection. I usually stop at one to pick up a few things, but never anything too big because I have to carry it about five kilometers.

One Sunday, though, I decided to buy eggs. And not just the couple that I can carefully store in my bag but an entire tray, 30 in all. You can’t buy full trays in my village, at least not to my knowledge, but eggs can do a lot for my typical meals of rice and lentils. However, I’ve been too worried, or too lazy, to carry them that far so I’ve never bothered. Till this particular day.

I carried the eggs home, with the help a few lifts, and all 30 made it back crackless. That evening, I ventured outside of my cooking skills and picked a squash and egg recipe that warranted far too many eggs when I only had a few at my disposal.

This little anecdote isn’t much, but, to me, it’s proof of change. It represents my new found willingness to venture outside of my comfort and try something new, knowing there will be a nice payoff.

This is what happens when you do something so completely outside the realm of what you are supposed to do, such as run an ultra marathon or live in Africa for two years. You start to believe that you can do anything. Limits no longer scare you. And you feel, as if for the first time, you have stopped living behind the wall.

I am still hesitant about sending out clips and manuscripts to places where they may get rejected and marked with a “you really think you could do this?” red pen. However, now, I’ve got enough eggs to make pancakes, breads and omelets for weeks. That, if anything, is a start.

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