My childhood was amazing and unique. In fact, it ruined my life in many ways. I remember when I was seven, listening to the radio in my parents' room in Australia, eyes closed, lying on the rug with my head on a pillow, the sound of the branches and leaves blowing in the wind outside. I often wonder, is this a dream and am I still in Australia? Will I wake up and be able to do it all differently? Or is this my life and my memories will always be an albatross around my neck?
1955 Summer in Texas, Working in the Fields
One of my grandmother Mary's favorite stories was about when she was driving home from bridge club in town and saw her two globetrotting granddaughters in their nightgowns chopping cotton out in the field with Otha and the rest of the black field workers. We also would go out and pick watermelon and cantaloupe. Earl got in a heap of trouble over that. We, however, loved doing it. We had just returned from Australia.