you.
Then she put the phone away.
Across the courtyard, a group of first-year engineering students were struggling to carry a large bridge model through a doorway.
Maya laughed and walked over to help.
“Tilt the left side first,” she said.
One student recognized her.
“Wait—are you Maya Chen?”
Maya smiled.
“Today I’m just the person telling you that model won’t fit straight through.”
They shifted it sideways.
The structure cleared the door easily.
As Maya watched them carry it inside, she thought of her father.
Everything strong had a reason it stayed standing.
She understood now that strength did not mean enduring every weight placed upon you.
Sometimes strength meant deciding which weight was yours to carry.
Sometimes it meant repairing what could be repaired.
And sometimes it meant walking through a different door.
