Well, As My Dad Would

I Watched My Beautiful Sister Running . . . And I Knew She Was Not Running Away From Me Or Toward Me. Like Someone Who Has Survived A Gut-shot, The Wound Had Been Closing, Closing - Braiding Into A Scar For Eight Long Years.

Learn A Language Of Another Country And Then You Can Go To That Country: A Place Where The Problems Of Your Family Will Not Follow. A Language They Do Not Speak.

The Damage Can Fester Under Layers Of Time And Change, And An Ignorant, Thoughtless Remark Can Easily Reopen The Wound.

I Had Rescued The Moment By Using My Camera And In That Way Had Found How To Stop Time And Hold It. No One Could Take That Image Away From Me Because I Owned It.

And There She Was, Alone And Walking Out In The Cornfield While Everyone Else I Cared For Sat Together In One Room. She Would Always Feel Me And Think Of Me. I Could See That, But There Was No Longer Anything I Could Do. Ruth Had Been A Girl Haunted And Now She Would Be A Woman Haunted. First By Accident And Now By Choice. All Of It, The Story Of My Life And Death, Was Hers If She Chose Tot Ell It, Even To One Person At A Time.