Recalling the moment I knew. I fell witness to the first small white lie, that I courageously brought up in murmur. Courageous because knowing how when you might hurt a little from my whisper of words, I would always hurt myself a lifetime more, even though the lie was never mine.
That was my always my perception of care. A selflessness that I was bound to naturally, innately, learned from my mother and my father, my grandmother and my grandfather. Giving goodness in grace, and never asking for more in return.
But I am far from perfect. Do we live or learn to brave?