One of my cousins from across the miles posed a couple of great questions, giving me food for thought. He asked:
Why do you write? And why do you write about the family?
My answer to him:
First of all, I write because I know I have a story to tell. As a kid, eventually I discovered we were dirt poor. In my teens looking back, I realized that I was neglected and forced to grow up too fast. I was ashamed of my childhood and bitter for being my mama’s mother. As I “matured,” settled down, married and had children of my own, along the way I found I was a stronger person because of some of the things that I endured as a child.
Once I embraced the God of my grandparents, I became a much better person, too. NOT that I had it all together; I still…
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