Member-only story
Would You Change Places If You Could?
Accepting that there will always be someone better.
by Sharon Turnoy
Forty years had passed somehow when I next saw a certain friend from college. It was more of a surprise to see her than not to have seen her in so long. Although we had traveled in the same circles and occasionally had a good, long talk in the old days, we’d never been especially close.
I used to like those talks, though. She had a good, caring heart, and it shone when I saw her the other day as brightly as it always had.
The Old Days
We were both radical feminists in college — and still are. I was the loudmouthed sarcastic one who wanted to be a writer, and she was the pragmatic, logical one with a fervent passion for social justice. She combined those characteristics to become a sought-after immigration attorney. I’d always been envious of her ability to turn her ideology into substance. She found ways to make a difference. Next to her, I often felt like just hot air.
In the old days, when she heard about anyone being treated unfairly, her lips would form a tight, grim line, and she would get a determined look on her face. You could just imagine her brain burning cycles on how to make things change. Things — like people, bureaucracy, the…
