Maya Angelou passed today and it hit me profoundly. I read her words before ever thinking about putting my story down on virtual paper. I read her words about her life, her childhood, her teenage years, the birth of her child at 17, her dancing to pay bills, her deep innate need to survive, her words were my words before I knew I had them. She had such a gift with language that I felt as if her world and my world were seamless. Not in experience, in emotion. I had such respect for her craft that I read everything I could get my hands on. I watched everything she appeared in, listened with intensity every time she spoke. She was a woman not satisfied with simply being, but in teaching and sharing and evolving. A true soul role model. A true soul. A soul. A soul that was tangible and real and who restored my faith in the very belief in souls. RIP Maya Angelou, your gifts in life were vast and may death bring your true rewards.