ADD Silver Lining

In the second grade, I became this voracious reader.
I couldn't read enough.
Mrs. Randolph fanned the flame.
So wherever you are, thank you for that.
In the fifth grade, I began to write.
Ms. Forrest and Sara Jo were key players this time.
I've told them both how important they were then and thanked them. Sara still encourages me.
She challenges everything about me and makes me a better person.
Sara and I used to create "feminist manuscripts" in her attic.
We outlined the rules for members of our organization and discussed what was most important. Freedom. We somehow knew that freedom and love were most important in life. Remembering our 10 year old selves, I smile.
What did we know about oppression?
Enough to be filled with seeds of indignation.
I can vaguely see the cover of our work.
EVE. Maybe the cigarettes influenced us.
Maybe the fall of mankind linked to a woman was a seed.
Maybe we were just born a little different and lucky enough to find each other.
We have this overpowering need to observe, learn, and set things aright.
By aright, I mean, bring love to those hurting.
Be assurance to those crumbling under the heaviness of uncertainty.
Be love.
After journalism, philosophy, teaching English as a Second Language, years of scribbled poems, second round advancing in writing competitions, and the huge variety of life lessons and people packed deep inside my heart and soul; I am doing the thing I have always dreamed of; I am writing with seriousness. I am doing the most horrendous thing possible, disciplining myself. I hate the structure, the repetitiveness of sitting in this one spot day after day, but I treasure the words that come from it. I will continue along this road. I will push when I am tired and disgusted. I will write damnit.
I have to pursue this dream whole-heartedly and see where it takes me. It may only serve to be the therapy I need. If so, then a temporary scratching out the things wriggling inside of me it will be.

My Mama likes my writing. So there's another plus.