I am from sunshine. From the train tracks in Phoenix and Pearl Harbor Elementary School in Honolulu. I am from the suburbs of Denver, a red brick bungalow, surrounded by red brick bungalows. Swing sets and vegetable gardens and an overgrown blackberry bush with thorns. I am from the plumeria tree, my sister and me, sitting in the branches with needle and thread, making leis, playing journey to the center of the earth under our house with stilts. From learning to live in snow and hang on to two mittens for an entire winter. The sun is shining, but it is so very cold! I am from daydreams and stacks of books. Nancy Drew. Mara, Daughter of the Nile. From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. Biographies of kings and queens and princesses, long gone. I am from Jim and Mary. I'm from the do-everythings, and then do some more. From stop reading and drawing pictures. Clean your room and do your homework. From church every
From fear to self-acceptance and laughter. The top picture is me when I'm seventeen. That's Duane, my first boyfriend ever, and despite the full beard, he is only 20. I don't know what's happening there, but I do look like a deer in headlights, and I'm holding his hand in a death grip. That's pretty much the story of the first half of my life. I was afraid of failure and rejection, and that led to hyper-seriousness in all areas. I suppose I laughed sometimes, but never at myself. I started getting stress migraines when I was six. Ironically, I was at least kind of good at pretty much everything, and I didn't do the things I wasn't good at. I just had anxiety and didn't know it. The second picture is me last spring, and oh, that's Duane, my husband. We are a lot older, but apparently I have learned to laugh--including at myself. I don't get migraines, and in general I am less afraid of rejection and failure. This may