The women in my family, my aunt, my mother and grandmother, each recollected my childhood from a personal standpoint to show what was at stake to care for me at that difficult time, how she made sacrifices to nurture my growth, and how she could have done better in hindsight. The truth is that they all have done their best, and they could never have done better. Perhaps it is only because they have told the stories that we begin to see the possibilities. Still, my life was as good as it could be under the circumstances. I cannot change what had passed; instead, I am given the means to re-story my life.

This is one of the many reasons that I write.