Category Archives: FTSF Years ago, when I was eight or nine years old, I read the words that parents will always love their children more than children love their parents. The realization that I meant more to my mom and dad than they meant to me immediately made me feel both treasured and guilty. I made a conscious […]  In fifth grade, along with the rest of my class, I made an autobiography. I still have it. It’s frayed and yellowed and falling apart, but I have it. There were pages for family history, special interests, and travel. One of the pages was reserved for goals. In mine, I said that when I grow […]  Just before drifting off to sleep, my son rolls over to check that I’m still there and grips my hand more tightly in his. I like to think that he’s locking my presence into his dreams. Sometimes, while lying in the dark or playing in the light, I think about all of the things I […]  I don’t consider myself as being particularly wimpy. I am the eight-year-old who slept on a board placed on her bedroom floor for six weeks after taking a dare from her brother to jump off a six-foot retainer wall at the elementary school that left me unable to walk home. During the 80’s and 90’s, I […]  One summer, when I was about six and attending day camp, a girl who was a few years older and eons cooler than I was, asked me whether my hair got darker when it was wet. Then, I was the shyest of shy, had few friends, and sported that kind of little-kid white-blonde hair that is […] There is no excerpt because this is a protected post. |
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