(Creative) Writing Your Way Through Clinical Classes

You are loved

Every Saturday on the way to class, I pass a sign on the freeway that never fails to brighten my morning. It’s a handmade sign constructed out of what I can only describe as an old white sheet and some black spray paint that reads:

“YOU ARE LOVED.”

The message is written in all capital letters and flaps gently in the wind as it hangs off the chain-link fence above the freeway.

Whoever made that sign doesn’t know me, and I certainly don’t know them; nevertheless, I drive under that overpass with a smile on my face and a sense of harmony with another human in this world.

What class was I headed to when reminded by the Universe that I am loved? Where was I going when I was reminded that I am loved, you ask? My Medical Assisting and Phlebotomy classes, e.g., my first two steps into the world of Nursing at thirty-eight. Do I care that I’m the oldest one in my class? Nope. Do I care about helping people and doing the best I can? Yes. I am well on my way to establishing a connection with myself again. It’s been a while since I looked at my reflection and felt good about who I am and what I’m accomplishing in life.

We all have a deep-seated need for connection and to be understood. Nothing holds this…