Monday, March 5, 2012


Some of us have memories of our childhoods that we’d rather not remember.

I have lots of them. Though I know these events helped shape the person I’ve become, and though I’m pretty much of the philosophy that people NEED TO GET OVER IT, there are times when I dwell on some not-so-nice stuff.

We’re all saddled with baggage. We all deal with it in our own ways. Or we don’t deal with it, and then it screws us up for life.

Instead of focusing on what happened in the past, I recently made a point instead to focus on me and the kind of child I was.

The child who collected stuffed animals and statues of horses and gave each one its own name and personality.

The child who carried on conversations with imaginary people while she walked alone back and forth from school.

The child who cuddled with her younger brother while their parents argued downstairs, distracting him with stories she made up on the spur of the moment.

The child who staked claim to an ancient, twenty-pound manual Royal typewriter and typed out lengthy novelizations of her favorite movies and TV shows.

The child who walked to the library once a week, in all kinds of weather, stayed for hours, and was never afraid to walk back home in the dark with a dozen or more books.

The child who turned in elaborate book reports on non-existent novels--and then rejoiced when her teachers never checked out the titles or suspected the “books” were only products of that child’s imagination.

The child whose single wish before she blew candles on every birthday cake, or cracked a wishbone every Thanksgiving day, was always the same: Please let me be a writer, please let me be a writer.

The child who believed the lyrics to a song were written specifically for her: “Climb every mountain till you find your dream.”

The child who never believed her dream was impossible no matter how many adults tried to tell her differently.

I never hoped for fame. I never wished to be filthy rich. Sure, that'd be nice. But it's not what I had in mind when I blew out those candles or yanked on those wishbones.

I am a writer.

That's what matters to me now.

No comments: