I Could Say That
I could say that a woman produced by city parents met her future husband painting a latrine at a camp in the middle of New Hampshire. They met in June and were married that December in her parent's living room and six years later her doctor swore she would have twin boys that April, until her first daughter was born, weighing in at 8 pounds 14 ounces.
I could say that the daughter was raised to love, not hate. She was raised to treat everyone the same, and to make sure that you treated them better than they treated you - not out of spite, but because nobody deserves to be treated poorly.
I could say the daughter was so shy as a young child, her teacher was afraid she couldn't read. That her first attempt at creative writing stemmed from being told "The Truth About Santa Claus" and made her seriously consider running away.
I could say the daughter is now 39 and still questioning her place in life. She has had several acquaintances, but not many close friends, and without Facebook and the internet, she wouldn't have been able to connect with her best friend from her freshman year of college.
I could say that she is strong on the outside because she fears so terribly on the inside, that nobody will be able to handle her emotions better than she can. That sometimes she wishes someone else will make a decision for her because even what pair of socks to wear is too complicated to decide.
I could say she is strong because she has to be. She needs to feel that she is being heard, which is why she yells - because she needs to drown out the nay-saying voices in her head.
I could say she has Bi-Polar and Depression and revisited some very dark places in writing the collection presented.
I could say that...