A glimpse at the metamorphosis of a broken child—and how I found wings to fly into a whole new world…

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My mother’s warning still echoes within my mind…

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I am — me. I can’t change who or what I am any more than I can move the moon or touch the stars. I feel deeply, think far too much, and dream of passion and love beyond the scope or fantasies of typical people.

I was society’s child, daring to dream, but only in the solitude of my bedroom in the dark of night. Something deep inside held me hostage, sabotaged my ardent ambition.

Mama told me endless stories of my childhood, but I have little to no memory of those days. I can’t recall playing with my sister, Brianna or my brother, Alex, no birthday parties, holidays or special events. I can’t even remember my mother shopping with me, fussing over my hair or taking me to the park, but Mother’s stories are seared in my mind.

 

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Strikingly animated at times as well, I amazed Mama and Daddy, like the time she took me to visit him at work. Daddy teased her about his new secretary and described the woman as an absolute doll. In front of several coworkers, I innocently chimed in, ‘When you lay her down, Daddy, does she close her eyes?’ That naive comment brought laughter to Daddy’s office parties for years to come.

My spontaneous enthusiasm did not impress everyone, however. The first time I went to the big church, I felt frustrated because I didn’t know words to their songs, so when everyone bowed their heads in silence, I belted out my version of ‘It’s Howdy Doody Time.’ The pastor, donned in his long black robe, glared down disapprovingly from his pulpit, while my mortified mother whisked me out the back of the church to the nursery.

Mama told me of times I embarrassed her with my innocent jargon. Once, when I accompanied her to the dry cleaners, my visit caused quite a ruckus. As we walked through the door, my eyes lit up at rows of hanging clothes stretched back as far as I could see and soft mist hovering above racks.

Mama, unimpressed with rising steam and vast array of clothing, spoke to the clerk and attempted to hand him several pairs of Daddy’s trousers. Each time she put a pair of pants on the counter, one by one I pulled them off and held them tightly in my arms. Frustrated at my behavior, she paused her conversation to attend to her misbehaving child.

 

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One evening Daddy took my puppy, Lucky, out for a walk in the woods, but he came back home with only her leash in his hand. He looked at Mommy with serious eyes and shook his head.

‘Lucky is gone.’ He gazed down at me.

My eyes welled with tears. ‘Daddy, where is she?’ I sobbed frantically, yanking at his pant leg. ‘Did my puppy get lost like I did?’

‘Lucky wanted to run and play, Casi.’ He began to explain. ‘You know how much fun she has chasing squirrels.’ He wrapped his arms around me lovingly and wiped a tear from my cheek.

‘She ran onto the railroad track as a train approached and froze like a deer, hypnotized by headlights. She couldn’t hear me whistling or yelling for her. I tried everything I could think of to get her attention, but when the last car faded into the distance, there was no trace of Lucky. The train took her to heaven, Sweetie.’

I was inconsolable. That train carried my friend’s daddy away too, and at four years old, I couldn’t understand why he parked his car so close to the tracks that the engine was able to grab him and take him to heaven.


 

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Do You Dare To Live Your Dreams?

How I discovered my passion and learned to live my dream ~ A USA Today Bestselling Author!

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