I think I was around 19.
I was 19 when I started digging my well.
That year, I used a number of shovels to carve out the dirt. But one shovel I remember in particular was large, looming, and expensive.
I had received my first credit card that year and I felt chic…important…adult.
So like any chic important adult, I used the card to buy an assortment of goods, services, and products,only one of which I remember to this day.
The price I paid for being chic came up to a mid four figures, a fortune for a broke college student.
In the many days after that, I exchanged that shovel for others, making sure my well would be deep enough to hold all that I needed.
Cassidy has just begun to dig her well.
She had just completed her freshman year at her dream college. But due to a sudden family financial crisis, returning for her sophomore year looked unlikely.
The abrupt change in circumstances threw the 18-year-old into a frantic tailspin.
“What am I going to do now?”
I collected a few buckets from my own well to share with her. After a while, she calmed down ,and the following day seemed to be better.
“So, I didn’t cry today,” she informed me as she smiled. “That’s a good start.”
A good start for a deep well.