The Glass Castle

"Everyone who is interesting has a past"

Today after reading The Glass Castle, I cried.
This is a story of resilience, triumph, love, loyality...

I want to one day write a memoir, not to publish it, but for the sake of having a past.... I can only remember fragments of my childhood... only the most painful, the most happy, proud, loving, devesting moments.... THe years i spent in Halifax seems to be a blur...

Looking over the grade 6 year book pictures... finding my first crush - Alex's picture.... humming to myself.... it was a sunny spring afternoon (April, March?)... I was the only one home.... I like it when it was just me.... everything was peaceful and quiet.... no yelling.... no tension..... I have my thoughts and my happiness all to myself.... I counted the number of peddles on the field daisies I brought home two days ago... they were kept in a neat little glass cup with some water..... the dasies were in full bloom.... I wanted to keep them there for as long as possile.... I moved the cup close to the window - want them to receive as much sunlight as possible..... They were happy....

To my horror, the next day, I discovered a fat maggot slowly emerging from the bottom of the cup.... I shuddered, quickly run across to the other side of the living room... staring at the cup, the dasies, crushed and disgusted that there would be something so slimy and gross among something so beautiful.... Nothing is as what they seem....

As I'm writing this now, a shiver run down my spine...My jaw muscle twitched....I can't bring myself to wander deeper inside my past.... i'll break.... it'll shatter.... maybe just maybe, onc day when i'm stronger.... i can tackle my demons, stand up to them and show them who's boss....

If Jeannette Walls can face her past then I should definitely be able to do the same....

Everyone has a story to tell, has a past to share... mine will come at the right time..........




Every so often, I would have the same re-occuring dream over and over again.... going back to China, visting my old apartment... talking to the people who currently live there and maybe (with any luck) getting a glimpse of the place.... reminiscing the memories.... I want to go back home.... I want to hold a piece of my past... doesn't matter if it's a rotting doll, fallen-apart story book, my old clothes, family pictures covered in grim, rotting dinning room table leg, anything...... THis is the reason I miss china so much.... up until this point, I haven't realized....