“This presence stayed with me as I felt the spread being tucked around my toes and heels. I finally got spooked and jumped up. In my terrified half-dream state, I pictured a giant spider trying to attack from between the plush cushions. Why, then, had I spoken aloud to my father? Because it was his touch. There was no mistaking the feel of those caring pats and long faltering fingers, trying to help, to show his love.”
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“These days, I feel a need to connect with the women of my ancestry, but who were the women that came from my mother's side? I suspect that they were strong, as I see absolute strength in my grandmother's piercing eyes—eyes that seem to challenge the world. Eyes that reflect my mother, who is the strongest woman I know. Where did my mother's absolute strength come from? She is the spitting image of my grandmother. Did my great-grandmother share the resemblance? Did she wear her strength in her stride the way I do? Why am I the woman that I am today? Where did my need to interpret my reality through writing come from? Were the women before my grandmother proud women, too?”
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