Permission

By the time you read this, I’ll be on my adventure. I have a destination, but it doesn’t matter how it turns out. Whatever happens, it’s going to be good because I’m going to learn about someone or something. That’s the part that turns me on.

When I was a little girl and got my first “big girl” bike, I took adventures several times a week and every day when possible. I was looking for something I hadn’t seen or heard. Mostly I was looking at and listening to people. I wanted to learn what made them happy. From the time I was very young, I was unhappy. By my fifth birthday, I remember praying to God that I could be three years old again. Three was a good year. It started with a chocolate cake with hot pink frosting and homemade ice cream, and everyone was smiling. Somewhere between that moment and five, things got messed up.

A few years later Ferdinand “Fred” Waldo Demara became my patron saint. I had a thing for him. I wanted to be him, and in some respects, the fascination has never gone away. So today, I’m giving myself permission to be Fred, and I think I might play a reporter. Not sure yet.

© Photograph by Rachel Zirkle