Living Outside the Box

Those living in the apartments neighboring my own likely think I’m weird.

I am, after all, the girl who jumps rope for an hour in the shared carport, smiling as I hop repeatedly up and down while ABBA, Cher or John Denver blares from my I-Pod.

I’m also the girl who shadow boxes in our parking lot, jabbing at invisible attackers and round-housing unseen threats.

Maybe I should care that a “what in the world is she doing” flutters unsaid behind my neighbors’ nods and waves. But I don’t.

I don’t care because when I biked back home this afternoon after yet another day of writing and calling, one of the kids who lives across from me was working on his own upper cuts and trying out a few side kicks.

You see, I don’t care if the others think I’m weird if just one little boy is inspired to dare to be different.

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