I can freely admit I don’t deserve to spend quiet time at a beach house. Yesterday, I sat on the edge of the world in my sparkle boots and thought exactly that. The storm was whipping up the waves, sending spray twenty feet into the air. The sound was deafening. 

I didn’t fit in—I was so small, on a rock, on the edge of a country I don’t really understand. How did I deserve to sit right there, just when, when so many are… are not able to do the same thing. 

The truth is: I don’t deserve it. 

And at the same time, I do. 

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