In 1961, when my mother, Karen, was nineteen years old and still growing up in Norway, her self-talk was, in some key ways, already pretty wonderful, writing, "Each new day is a blank page that everyone can write on." What are you writing on the page of today?
[image description: A heart wearing a leg brace is drawing a picture of a horizon with a sunrise. In the sky, text reads: "En gryende dag er et blankt papir som alle kan skrive på." Below at the heart's foot is the English translation: "Each new day is a blank page that everyone can write on."]
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