Story

I have been thinking a lot about Narration and story. We are told stories our whole life, and every day we narrate our hopes and dreams and fears. I have been trying to rewrite the tragic stories I was supposed to live out -- the ones in the script I was handed by my mother at birth. I have rewritten them but my siblings, cousins and parents will not accept my view. That's another story -- the one that I didn't expect and still puzzles me. I am here! I survived! I am healthy! Aren't you glad? No. We wanted a whipping boy to blame our misery on, not you: an energetic smart independent woman who lives in the city, eats sauer kraut and spouts Yiddish and plays music and wears a mustache without apology.