On Ambition

When I was a child ambition meant climbing steps as quickly as possible without nicking my shins on the way up. My mother was often sick so I ran her errands. I shopped at the grocery store and did her banking.  I was six years old.  When I entered the bank, the tellers fussed over me, smiling and giggling, because I was so small that I could hardly reach the window to make a deposit. Still, I reached higher and that meant standing on my tiptoes.  I’m still standing on my tiptoes, but most of the time it’s in ballet class where I’m working on my turns. Later in life, ambition has taken me to the most wonderful places. It has also taken me to the depths of hell to places where I should not have gone. Ambition meant hanging on for dear life and putting one foot in front of the other when I was scared.  Ambition made me leave home at seventeen and move across the country. I’d like to say that I never look back, but it’s not true. I always look back to see how far I’ve come.  I also look ahead to see how far I have left to go. I know one thing is for certain – I’ve made ambition my friend.  Because of ambition I’m that much closer to experiencing a little touch of heaven and a little bit of hell too.  In the end, it’s all good.