What is a little girl living in the segregated south suppose to believe in when all she sees is hate and injustice? Hope is an introspective child who is trying to wrap her mind around the injustices in Birmingham, Alabama in the 50’s and the 60’s.
It came out of nowhere and it doesn’t seem to want to leave either. One day I was going about my uncomplicated life, planning, doing and getting along, when suddenly the thing came and took hold of me. I knew it when it crept up just what it was. The palpitations. The late nights when I couldn’t sleep. The times when I was suddenly giddy for no reason and smiling at strangers. My heart had been stung and with it so was my brain. For months now I have been swimming around, determined to remain bouyant. As long as I move along the surface I’ll be okay. Won’t I? There is not a day that goes by that I do not think about how I got here. I have probably visited nearly every sort and sordid fantasy someone of my creativity and imagination can conceive. It feels good. The thing about bringing a fantasy to life is that it rarely lives up to the depth of the fantasizer’s image. But I can hope. And anyway that is not the point. The thing about matters of the heart is that they come with no reason, no time frame and no solution. I massage it into my psyche accepting it for what it is and who I am. I am a woman who was struck by the proverbial lighting bolt of attraction by a man who she never saw coming and does not want to leave. Stay tuned.