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“In the glass, Constance saw not herself but a resonant symbol of who she might be. Indeed, of who she authentically was, if only she allowed herself. I am the dove, she thought, holding all the converging lines of my strength and possibility. I am the light for my children, as they are the light for me. I am the one beckoning to the one in myself yearning to be free.” — Diane C. McPhail
In the glass, Constance saw not herself but a resonant symbol of who she might be. Indeed, of who she authentically was, if only she allowed herself. I am the dove, she thought, holding all the converging lines of my strength and possibility. I am the light for my children, as they are the light for me. I am the one beckoning to the one in myself yearning to be free.