I’ve learnt a lot of things in my thirty two years.

Like how to tie my shoe laces. And where to find the best almond croissants. And how to listen to a lung and hear its pathology in one breath.

But the most beautiful teachers are the remarkable women that surround me. They are fierce and fearless and awe-inspiringly brilliant. And they teach me things everyday.

Like how to pull oneself out of a deep depression with sheer force of will.

Like how to flip a life upside down and start over, a single mom with nothing to her name, for the sake of her children.

Or how to juggle a career and a family; be a wife, be a boss-mom, be a sister and still find the time to dance on a bar counter every now and then.

From one of them I have learnt that a human can experience the kind of grief that only death brings, again and again, and still look up and say “I know my life is not that hard”.

Or how to face the harshest betrayal with grace and poise and gentleness that seems impossible.

How to swim in an ocean of oppression and still be in awe of the waves.

How to be strong and brave and soft and kind and confident and brilliant and gentle, all at the same time. And how to let go.

How to love.