Girl Of Eleven





After talking it over with Mr. Savory on Sunday, I decided to put aside an essay I began earlier this fall as a response to a writing exercise.

I felt relieved to let it go because that piece of writing, and I really can't call it anything more than a "piece", became an obligation to be the dutiful student, to not give up. Yet, I have no burning desire at present to tell this particular story from my childhood.

At first I was excited by this exercise and relieved to leave the not-too-distant past, as I worried that soon I will run out of material.  I quickly saw that the past holds plenty of material, but my voice is centered in who I am now, not in the girl I was at eleven.

I believe I will return to her when I understand what her story is about, but for the moment, I am enjoying the photo albums I unpacked from storage boxes.  I am remembering her clothes, her bedroom, what her family looked like.

This girl needs time to come to life again. But for now, ttyl girl in braids.