March 22. 2015
I am nearly done sorting out my library. It’s been a long, fascinating journey and I am delighted and happy that it is nearly done. I pulled out three big piles of children’s books for my daughters to go through and I found two Shakespeare books for my daughter’s fiance who is a Renaissance theater scholar,. They aren’t much, but I think he’s enjoy them.
I brought the VHS tapes out to the alley and tomorrow, on my way to work, out goes the paper shredder. It was something my oldest daughter won that we clean up and use for about 20 minutes and then store for months. The truth? We don’t get enough paper in the mail anymore to worry about identity theft.
I found, in the piles of papers I took off my shelf in my closet, my Eighth Grade yearbook. What a moment in time that was! Fifty years ago, I graduated from Eighth Grade with a group of wonderful children with whom I had studied for only two years. I joined their class in Grade Seven. The class photos were taken after we returned to our classroom from attending the funeral on one of my best friends. She was only 13 years old and she died on a Saturday in the spring. It was so horrific for us to go through, as a class – I can only imagine how her parents felt.
So today, I remember the girl in the Eighth Grade – me – who lost a dear friend, who worked on the school newspaper, and who danced. I wanted to be an actor and a spy and instead, I became a mom.
I am still a writer.
The Backpack Press 