Story

Reading a few biographies it is conclusive that everyone has at least one story. No matter how sensational or mundane, it is their  story with heartache and triumphs of one kind or another.  Depending on the depth of emotion and how much is felt  gives the story their edge. 

I have come to appreciate solitude, there is something peaceful in not having to respond to the drama that other people bring into the framework of life. On a recent cruise people came and went in passing. Like a quick hello and goodbye without the strings of emotion. It make for a joyous occasion. 

I had this dream unusual at it was it was like a comedy that kind of put a death of a dear friend to rest. In the dream my brother in law was in prison and one of the guards helped him break out. I had him dress as a woman as we were on the run in the dream. I felt a sense of peace seeing him as he was big part of my life as everyone I had known had passed away. Tears fall as I think of all the goodbyes. I wondered to myself what is my story? What did I overcome, what were my trials and triumphs?  I must have an overworked guardian angel as I think of all the people who took my hand if only for a little while. My earliest memories have always been distant, like a gray day where you can't see clearly. But the first one that comes to mind is my mother saying"don't leave the yard." Ah.. the big back yard I can't remember how old I was when I realized there was more to the world than that "Big back Yard." I tried to think in depth what came next from that moment,not what I was told but what I could truly remember. There is a gap of those first 6 years that I really can't fill in. It is not like I haven't tried, they just have always been blank.  From the age of six to nine I can count six places that I lived and as many schools. Each location comes with a glimpse of childhood. I can see the outside of each building but I can't open the door with my mind and enter the building. All of the memories from that time are outside of each house. I was the proverbial new girl in school. " Meet Rachel our new girl."

I guess I managed to get use to people in passing, they have been that way since I can remember.

I have been working on my family tree for sometime now but what really was interesting was the historical  newspapers that you can find online. Some of the articles actually were documentations of my childhood. It was uncanny as I felt distant and close to the stories. As if the articles were about someone else.  Missing chapters of a life, maybe I blocked those chapters out for a reason. That is my survival. It is like having the ability to rewrite the story or atleast turn the page.