by Colette Martin
For eighteen years I watched him push himself to be the best. My heart broke as I watched him on stage at age seven, holding back his tears for landing second place in the science fair. I tried not to lose my temper (and failed) when he smashed his french horn because he couldn’t hit the high note, and I tried to be supportive when he insisted that he needed to attend the Valedictorian / Salutatorian dinner at the same time as the state qualifications for track. The choice was entirely his. We arrived in a unique community nestled among the White Mountains, where frisbees and textbooks mix seamlessly with crisp clean air on the big green. And as I made the four-hour drive home alone after safely depositing him, I knew that he was exactly where he should be.
Colette Martin is a "marketing executive turned writer" who blogs about life in Corporate America here.