I like being left-handed. When Mom was a child, left-handedness was considered a curse. She told me and my brother that she and her left-handed brother, Len, had their left hands tied behind their backs in the one room school house to prevent them from using their left hands to write. You'd almost think that they were struck left-handed by the devil.
Treatment improved for left-handed children in schools by the time I went to kindergarten in 1967. We had the green handed scissors designed for left-handed students only. The teacher handed out a small box for lefties to take a special pair of scissors. Suddenly, I felt singled out. The real problem occurred when I couldn't cut with those green handled scissors. I cut right-handed. Eventually, I learned to request right-handed scissors. Apparently, I'm ambidextrous!
I never shook off the feeling that I was different, and now it doesn't matter if I am perceived as different. In fact, I celebrate my differences. Life feels very different once you accept yourself, just as you were made. I never did get over just squeaking by for the calligraphy grade. Sometimes, you have to let it go and realize that you can't excel in everything, but you can rule out what you should let go in order to focus on what's important in life.
This is my five minute freewrite
using prompt struck left handed by 
Thank you for reading!
