One Sunday morning she woke up different. She smiled different. She thought different. She walked different. Her stride was a bit more powerful. A bit more magical. Her life was different. Not because of a woman or a man. Not because of a job. Not because of success. She realized something kind of special. Life was too precious. Life is too precious. Life is way too miraculous to leave the key in a stranger’s pocket. She grasped it and felt the metal key in her own hands, in her own pocket. She didn’t need to knock on doors anymore. Life was knocking on hers. And, she was born to answer it.