I can remember a photo of me… Black and white, cut out of a newspaper…My dad, a photographer who rarely took pictures of his children…A photo of me, taken by my dad…I am wearing a full-length white satin wedding dress I madeand pearls. A necklace and earrings.I look...
Timidly I share one story, then only after assessing your reaction, I share another.As if feeding a duck, one piece of bread at a time, Ensuring it will follow.Once you are full, I watch carefully for clues that you will fly awayMy pain too much for any...
Growing up, I got the message loud and clear in cruel words and in abusive actions that I was unlovable, a bother, and that there was something inherently wrong with me. When I wasn’t at the end of my mother’s wrath and frustration, I was mostly ignored and forgotten....
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