Chapter 11 · 4 min 39 sec
I Never Knew Any Other Way
The tenderness of simplicity — a life lived without alternatives, full of its own grace.
Lyrics· 333 words
I grew up watching quiet people doing what they said they'd do Never needing recognition, never chasing someone else's truth They shake a hand and keep a promise, look you straight in the eyes And somehow in those simple moments, they taught me how to live my life
I didn't know they were teaching, I thought that's just how people were I never knew any other way, to me a heart's a heart at the end of the day I met people with nothing, and people with everything, and the best of them all Never needed a crown to make themselves seen, I never knew any other way
I sat beside important people, and people nobody knew And after all these years, I still believe the same is true The loudest voices in the room, rarely leave the deepest mark The people who change your life, usually do it in the dark
Maybe that's old-fashioned, maybe that's okay I never knew any other way, to me a heart's a heart at the end of the day I met people with nothing, and people with everything, and the best of them all Never needed a crown to make themselves seen, I never knew any other way
The people who raised me, never taught me to look up or down, only eye to eye And maybe that's the reason, no title ever changed my mind, about who matters in this life When all the noise is over, when all the names fade away The only thing that really stays, is how you make people feel
I never knew any other way, to me a heart's a heart at the end of the day The richest man, the newest hire, the famous and unknown Every single one of us just wants a place, to call home I never knew any other way, I never knew any other way
Some lessons are spoken, some lessons are lived The best ones become part of you Thanks for watching
*A story about dignity*
When Lara was twelve, she was ashamed of her father's job.
He was a fisherman. He left before dawn every morning and came back in the afternoon smelling of the sea and salt and something that never quite washed out of his jacket. His hands were rough and wide. He never wore a suit. He drove an old van with rust at the corners.
When her classmates asked what her father did, Lara said "he works in the marine industry," which was technically true and sounded much better.
Then one morning, for reasons she could never fully explain later, she got up before dawn and found him in the kitchen eating his breakfast alone in the dark.
"Can I come?" she asked.
He looked at her for a long moment. "It's cold," he said.
"I know."
He poured her a coffee — real coffee, the first she'd ever had — and didn't say anything else.
On the boat, in the dark and the spray, Lara understood something she hadn't understood from shore. Her father was not simply doing a job. He was doing something he knew completely, in his body and his bones, something he had done every day for thirty years with the same steady attention. He knew which way to pull the net. He knew the weather by the smell of the air. He knew the names of the other fishermen on every boat in sight, and they called to each other across the water in a shorthand that sounded almost like music.
When they came back in, the dock was busy with people buying the morning's catch. An old woman held up a fish and said something to her father and they both laughed.
"Who is she?" Lara asked.
"Maria. She's been buying from me since before you were born." He smiled at the fish in the crate. "She makes the best caldeirada in the city. Her family has eaten fish I caught their whole lives."
Lara looked at her father's hands lifting the crates. Rough and wide and capable of anything the sea asked of them.
That afternoon at school, someone asked again. "My father is a fisherman," she said clearly.
She didn't add anything else.
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*The work a person does with their whole heart is never small, no matter what it looks like from the outside.*
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