An Untimely Death - An Accidental Death

1689 Words Sep 28th, 2016 7 Pages
An Untimely Death
When I was four, I started reading. Family folklore is that I read a murder story over my mom’s shoulder at the breakfast table and shocked her and my dad. My mom didn’t read the paper with me sitting next to her after that. Because I was praised for being able to read so young, I saw myself as “smart”; I’d found the one thing that seemed to please my mom. I also found that I loved reading, so it was a win-win for me. Before Kindergarten, I would write stories with my mom. She would write the words down for me, and I would illustrate them. From then on, I used everything I could get my hands on to express myself. I paint, draw, write stories, crochet, sew clothes and purses, quilt, do needlepoint, knit, write letters to anyone who is willing to fork over their address, blog, make pottery, and sing (very poorly). I’ve always seen myself as a creative person, mostly because my mother pushed me to express myself in creative ways. I always saw writing as one way to express my inner self.
Reading started out as an escape, a form of traveling outside myself, and later on, as a way to enjoy art. I grew up with stories about my great-grandmother, my grandmother, and my mother –how they all had artistic sides. “It’s in our blood,” my mother used to say. I watched my mom spend her free hours in expressing her creativity in paint, stained glass, and even in her baking; that woman even made salads beautiful with radishes cut like roses. She also made the most…
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