Dear Mommy, I can't imagine my life with any other woman as my mother. I will never forget all you have sacrificed and done to make sure that your five children would grow into great human beings. Now what happened to us as a result of an abusive father has created a thumb print on each of us in our own way and yet you love us unconditionally anyway. Each of us carries a burden or problem with us most of the time and you are never too tired to hear about it or care. Our whole lives you showed us how to be contributing members of society. While living a life of broken heartedness and loss you continued to raise us each individually as needed for our success. Now to say that we are all successful is far from the truth but I would bet my last dollar on the fact that we are all way more grounded, caring, giving and most importantly loving than anyone you could think of other than yourself. You taught us that as long as we were in the position to help we should and that there is never a reason for being unkind even if it felt good. Kindness is something few people know and because of your relentless need to be kind all of your children find themselves holding doors for strangers, giving money to homeless people when they themselves is money stricken, helping whoever they can however they can. Coming from a relationship of abuse of the worst kinds you were still able to teach all of us the importance of remaining kind. You broke the cycle of abuse in all of us by protecting us with your own body on occasion and even hiding us at neighbors houses while you faced the abuse alone. Teaching us that family is number one priority was the best thing you could have done for us. We continue to carry that on with us as we are all grown today with our own families. We all have our reactions from the abuse and you accept us each as our individual selves. Some of us suffer great mental illness and you still stand by us and with us as we battle our inner demons. Several mothers have given up on their children for less and yet there you are cheering us on to victory. I will never forget what you have sacrificed to save us from the abuse. How you worked two or three jobs at a time and went to school for a better degree and how you always showed up when it mattered. You never missed a beat of our lives and continue to still do so. You are 73 years young and you are the strongest woman I have ever encountered in my life. You stood by all of us with our drug addictions and struggles with drinking. You were there to help us through our saddest moments including burying a son in law, my son's father. You helped me raise my children when I was so overwhelmed with depression that I couldn't do it alone. Never will I forget what you sacrificed and continue to sacrifice for our safety and well being. I know you cry your self to sleep silently not saying a word. I know it hurts to hear us hurting but you listen anyway. You will never turn away from us no matter how hateful or hurtful we may become because of our mental illnesses. You never put a stigma on our mental illnesses and continue to help us all navigate through the mental health system and life. I will never forget what you sacrificed for us and I will never let it be in vain. On this day I promise to never quit striving to be a mother like you. I wish that I could measure up to you as a mother but fear I never will. You are an amazing woman. You walked through fire and came out on the other side unscathed because of your faith and I hope to one day carry that same faith in my heart and soul. You will not be forgotten ever and neither will your sacrifices. If anything I feel guilty for putting you through more drama. Like you need more drama? I know who my siblings are, we are all drama battling our demons and you stand by us every single day you breath. I fear the day I lose you because I will no longer have that cheerleader in my corner. The woman that taught me everything I know about being a better version of myself through tackling her own problems. You beat it all by yourself. Your parents were gone and your sibling didn't understand and you still did it anyway. For us, your children. You put up with things that no one should ever have to deal with as a mother and you did it with pride for us in your eyes because you love without condition. For that I thank you. Teaching unconditional love both helps and hinders me today, but mostly helps me. I am a more understanding and caring human being. I am not in a group of bullies and I am not standing alone. I have learned that I need a support team to get through life by watching you so tiredly survive your own story. Will anyone ever understand what it means? Probably not, unless we can get that book written. One from the perspective of each of us. But here's the thing Mom, to me you are on a pedestal as far as I'm concerned. I would lay my life on the line for you for what you have done for me and my siblings and my children. You never stopped giving even when you had nothing to give you continued to love without judgment and because of that I will be a success. I will rise above and I will not give up on life. Because you never have and never will so where do I get off feeling so sorry for myself? I'm so sorry for any problems I have caused you. I'm sorry for taking advantage of your kindness and for the tribulations I have put you through. Without you in my life I feel as though I would have died a long time ago. But here I sit in front of the computer chasing my dream as a writer, writing you a letter to let you know that you are my encouragement. You are my reason for being. I continue on because of you and your kindness and love. I watch my sibling living their lives because of you as well. Maybe we don't agree on all decisions made by one another but we love each other unconditionally and in our small town we are know as a little "crazy". I use the word loosely. But in our community we are also known as a family that sticks together when the going gets tough the Lairds get tougher. That is because of you. You are the strongest woman I have ever met in my entire life and will always model my choices and life after yours. I am thankful I had you as a mom and not someone unable to handle me. I know I am a handful. Mom you are the greatest gift I have and dread for the day I will no longer have you, but until that day comes I will call everyday. I will spend as much time with you as I can soaking up all that love you have to give. I think I am about a fourth as strong as you are and thank you for sharing that much. I only hope that one day someone will remember you because of me and my kindness, unconditional love and caring nature. Yes it's true people already say, "you must be Mickey's daughter!" I beam inside when I hear that because I have never had a better compliment. To be known as your daughter because of similar character traits is an accomplishment in itself. You may feel you didn't succeed in life and that you should have done things differently but let me reassure you my ability to share this with the world, what you have taught me, is a testimony to the strength you have shared with me. I will carry the torch and pass it on down the line. I really write this letter to thank you for everything. Even the bad times have helped to mold me into a stronger individual. As a kid you used to say some day you will understand why things happen, well that day is today and I know that I watched you in all your struggles to be able to overcome those of my own. I love you today and every day. I will never forget what you have done for us. I will never forget you did it alone. I will never forget your strength in doing so either. Your legacy will live on forever through the generations as long as I have anything to say about it. Thank you mom. It's true as you grow your mother is your confidant, your go to, your partner in crime. You are all of those things to me and so many more. I can't explain any clearer how much you mean to me. You are my everything Mom and I will always live my life to make you proud and to show the world what a strong woman you are. I promise. I love you.
She sits in the darkness of her room with the thoughts going through her head so quickly that she can not distinguish one from the other. They all mesh together. She can't make sense of any of it and it was driving her crazy she started to rock like she always did. The anxiety was climbing and her breathing grew fast and shallow. Unable to breath tears started rolling down her face. What was happening to her? Was she going to die? It felt like she might die. But I'm only ten, she thought to herself. How could I be dying, she thought out loud? Hearing herself say something so absurd snapped her out of her head into reality. She sat in a puddle of sweat. Her shirt and shorts were drenched and she was still slightly rocking. What had happened to her? She wasn't exactly sure but it made her worry about her well being. Why should she be so worried all of the time if she was only ten? Who could explain what had happened without casting her with some stigma as a troubled youth like her brothers and sister. She wanted to get out of this small town when she grew up and knew that if she allowed herself to be labeled at such a young age she would never amount to anything. She again kept this strange and rare episode to herself. It had happened once before but she decided to keep it all to herself, she wouldn't every mention it not even to her mother who knew everything about her. Betsy vowed to overpower these uncontrollable anxiety attacks with all she had and it worked for about ten years.
A Fresh Start
I looked at her with sadness in my eyes. What had caused her to make this heart wrenching decision? She had decided to leave for a while.
The darkness and emptiness fills the room as tears fill my eyes. I sit on our bed and cry harder than I have in a long time. Why is my life what it is today? Why do I still feel all this pain? Will it ever feel good again? I've become very negative on that subject. I don't understand the addiction to gambling and it is tearing us apart. I love him more than I love myself and yet I can't wrap my head around this. The fact that this is what we are going to lose to, some slot machine in a dive bar and dive gas station preying on the hearts and souls of addicts in our town. There are slot machines in every gas station but two and every bar and almost every eating establishment has machines. They are everywhere. Their bells and whistles just luring him in to ruin our lives together. The bells and whistles here at home have long gone a while ago. Seventeen years I guess things get stale or you get bored, I'm not sure. I still love him more than life itself so I'm still having a hard time understanding the logic behind the behavior of self-destruction. He is unknowingly pushing me away and it hurts. The glances of love I once received are replaced with looks of hate, disgust and shame. I know I've gained weight, COVID has really impacted me and being diagnosed mentally ill, bipolar depressed with depression, is has been especially hard for me. So I know that I haven't been the perfect version of myself either but I haven't tried to break our bond. I sit here alone in my room in the darkness and I concede to the gambling and it wins again. He continues to do it knowing the possible consequence is losing me is just sending a message that I'm replaceable and easily done so by a slot machine. He has found solace in these things, something I can not give him. However, when he loses which is often he comes home beaten. He looks terrible. It is not a good look on him, regret and shame. He does not wear it well. That is not the man I married. He was a strong provider that would never sacrifice our relationship in this way. He is lost and I am afraid it is because he is not happy with me. He is not happy and this is how he shows it without saying it out loud. Is that true I ask myself as I sit here alone in the darkness of my own mind? My father, abusive, always told me I would never be loved. Was he right? I hope not. I want him to be wrong but all sign point to yes, I'm too much to handle. Instead of telling me that the man of my dreams the man I love can look at me with disgust and hate and tell me to get out of our home because I'm angry because he spent over 500$ in the slot machines in two days, mind you we are poor people and can not afford this habit. I'm laid off because of COVID and the side effects I'm suffering and he is the main provider. I would leave if I could. I have no where to go. My mom is in assisted living and my sister lives here with me. There is no where for me to go but I find myself needing that more now than ever. See I'm sitting here in the darkness of my room and I am contemplating the only way I get out of here is dead. Yes that's right suicide is crossing my mind. What now? How could I even ever think that way I have a won. I love him more that I love me. He needs me at least I think he does. I'm not sure though. Sometimes I think he would be happier is I wasn't here to bog things down with all my sadness and anger. Everyone would be better off if I just disappeared. I'm already alone in life. I have a few close friends that would miss me but they would survive. They have lives of their own to live. I've reached out and not one person has noticed that I'm struggling with living on this treacherous life that I'm caught living. I feel as the only place to go is home. But I thought home is where the heart is, that is with my family. I'm questioning who is my family. Not him, he's clearly made a point to keep me out of his life as truly family. He has too much that he won't deal with hindering our relationship growth and his personal growth. I think he'd fed up and done with me and doesn't have the courage to say it. He's trying to get me to leave so I'm working out a way. I don't know how but I'm trying. I don't want to die and I'm afraid if I put up with this much longer I might not have a choice. Lost in all of these rambling thoughts. I am alone and that is scary. It's been a long time since I have been alone. I don't know how. I don't know if I can but even now surrounded in a house with my "family" and I'm still lonely. I have to escape this loneliness someway somehow. I have to escape this downward spiral my life is now stuck in. How to get away? Am I stuck? Will I ever survive this chapter of my life? Honestly I'm not feeling very optimistic. I'm crying out to the unknown. Someone here my cries, I could use a bunch of guidance.
Column One: NY Times
As I look up and across the sky the stars and moon light up like sparklers on Independence Day. It is a full moon and it scares me. I know what the effects of the moon have on me. Do I believe in astrology? Yes in some sense. Gemini are born between May19 and June 20. Noted as twins Gemini's are known for their two sided behavior. Also know as kind and affectionate and a little chatty. Now all of this information is based on the moon and the planets and how they align and what it does to you on a chemical balance level. I believe this is true being a Gemini all of these things have had notable effects on my life. See I am diagnosed Bipolar Disorder, depressed, with anxiety. Being bipolar has changed me and I have to fight for days of happiness. But I am also the first to help someone if I can. I am always looking out for others and have a care taking gene that is almost an abnormality. People seem to flock to me. I feel like I am a magnet for needy souls. Souls that need to hear my story so they can finish a chapter in their life. Its not necessarily a bad thing but it definitely has an affect on my life. The moon is said to control a Gemini's mood, emotion both sub conscious and conscious, as well as other things. I believe that when the gravitational pull changes and we are physically changed that of course it will change us emotionally and mentally as well. I know that out of 3 of my hospitalizations, two of them were on full moon nights. Being bipolar means that unless medicated there usually isn't a line between manic and depressive for me. I am one or the other. I am lying in bed crying or I am mobile doing something. But on these full moon nights knowing that my body is about to experience a celestial change so to speak I try and pay more attention to how I am reacting to things. Because of the moon and the planets aligning everything seems to find a way to implode or explode whichever applies and it seems like it is out of my control. I am telling you that the sign of Gemini as it is shortly explained does apply to me. All the traits seem to describe me to a T. I also believe that people are crazier than normal when there is a full moon. I haven't completely addressed the other aspects of astrology but the moon and alignment with our planet let alone other planets definitely is factual as well. Like I mentioned before I have a mental illness. I am inclined to tell you that I am currently in therapy and see a psychiatrist. I have for a long time because it is a life long journey. I will never be another sign. I will never change to a Virgo, Pisces, or Sagittarius. I am a Gemini through and through. I have two poles, hence twins. I am kind. I would give anyone the shirt off my back. I love to a point that it physically hurts me and I generally cry when others don't reciprocate my behavior. Although I realize that I am overreacting it happens anyway like I am possessed and I don't remember what is said or done in the moment. I can remember bits and pieces but things tend to black out for me because it is a defense mechanism that I have made for myself. If I don't remember the trauma it didn't happen. Another way of my Gemini mind working is its magic to steer me through life. Have I taken my meds I ask myself every night before bed? When is my next appointment to see the therapist I need to talk? I believe that our chemical makeup in our brain is triggered by many things and this affects everyone differently. I'm a Gemini and those are kinds of ways that it affects me. So why am I afraid of the full moon? I'm afraid because my Gemini brain tells me to be careful how I react, be careful how you feel. The reason I tell myself this is because during a full moon my emotions are heighten ten fold and even though I already have heightened emotions it becomes glaringly affective on my responses and behavior. I know that its triggering the wrong chemical in my brain releasing the wrong amounts of serotonin but it is all because of the gravitational pull that this happens as well as our physical bodies and the chemicals released because of that change. Being bipolar I've learned a lot about how it works to better understand myself and others alike. I am still leery of the full moon. I tend to avoid large gatherings on these occasions. I adjust my life to the full moon. Call me crazy but its true and it has only gotten better because of the education I have gotten both in therapy and by researching my Zodiac sign. Gemini's are passionate. Geminis are emotional. Geminis are twins, or two sided. Is it because of the Zodiac sign that I am the way I am. That paired with the moon and planets alignment all play a role. Can I change things. Only as much as I try to change I suppose is the honest answer. I know the consequences of a full moon and I try to make the right choices all of the time but particularly fail in some sense on nights of full moons. I believe in astrology. Am I an anomaly? Who gets to decide the answer to that question? Who is qualified to give a response. Probably whichever Zodiac sign that thinks they are right about everything, wait did I just describe a Gemini? I don't know better do some fact checking. With all this in mind pay attention to mental health and full moon nights these people require special care because their struggle is extra hard, maybe lend a helping hand. Also, be careful this full moon effect is seen on the sanest of people. Differently too. Growing up around a mental health professional I learned a ton about the behavior of the mentally ill. I submerged myself in the behavior of people in their normal habitats. Not everyone notices the behavior of everyone around them but I try to and it is entirely to educate myself for me and and my safety. Always know your surroundings I was always taught. But to be honest I thing that even the "normal" people not suffering from a diagnosed mental illness are affected by the moon the stars and the planets alike. So if you are ever wondering about the full moon, keep on wondering because curiosity is key to knowledge. I speak from experience, a life time of experience only about 26 years of actually living with a definite diagnosis myself but a whole life of 41 years living the consequences of astrology and how it affects everyone around us. Knowing the things I know now I am not quick to judge. I try to be more patient with people, not knowing everyone's astrological sign its best to always be kind. I have not researched the entire astrological system I mainly narrowed my search on Gemini's but I know everyone reacts differently depending on their sign and what these stars and moons and planets have in store is on a complete different astrological plane for every single person. Therefore, each response from each individual is unknow and definitely different. So act accordingly and try to know why your reactions may seem out of character. Where is the moon at at what is Mercury doing? That's a whole other topic to cover, Mercury and how it affects us. Today we touch on the moon, maybe tomorrow Mercury. Just know one thing. Astrology is a science and can be proven easily by observing basic human behavior in correlation with the stars, moon, planets and even the sun. Do some research, see what you're up against. Don't be afraid of the moon, learn what it's doing to you and the people around you. This research may lead to a better life, never know there is always room for more understanding.
A plain girl stood before the crowded gym holding a check that may have weighed almost as much as she did and she forced a smile. The check read: "Pay to the order of: Charity Nolan in the sum of Twenty Thousand Dollars." A flash ran through her mind as she stood there petrified of what people really thought of her. She had won more money than she ever dreamt of and didn't even understand exactly how. Three weeks earlier a news reporter came to her hometown of Watchakee, Illinois and interviewed potential writers for a seminar that the city was supporting in hopes of expanding their towns revenues for the local library. The local library was a staple of the town. Children gathered around the library all year round, it was kind of the hip place to be as a kid Charity's age. Well, Charity always reveled herself a writer but was not sure if she met the criteria to be a member of the writing seminar and listened closely as the reporter told the crowd what was needed in order to even be considered for such an honor. See the writer's of the seminar would compete for a portion of the grant given to the library by Congress to expand their book collection to be used by the winners however they saw fit to expand their abilities to become writer contributing to the future of our reading spectrum. Charity was only 17. She was at the age of wanting out of the house but not being able to live on her own. She used writing as a way of getting out of her own head. Inside her head things happened that no one knew about. No one ever really took the time to get to know Charity because she was always so quiet and meek that no one really noticed she was even there. It often happened that Charity was left standing in the corner by herself lost in her own thoughts. She found that in these types of situations it was best for her mental health to write down the things that went through her mind as to not make much noise about these thoughts but not to the point of ignoring them entirely. She lost herself in thought often and amongst all of her books she always carried her diary around so she could write whatever she was feeling. Her diary was a small tattered book that looked worn and tattered. It was definitely read again and again and again. But the honest onlooker may not have even noticed Charity's little black book amongst her pile of daily books. Another flash of the crowd broke up Charity's flash to the newspaper reporter and then she was caught in a downward spiral of events flashing in her face that led to the winning of this contest to participate in the writing seminar. First Charity see's herself standing with her feet five feet from the wall and her face smashed against the wall with a pain rushing through her face as she supported her own weight with her own face against the wall. Tears were streaming down her face and she was afraid to move. Why was she standing there like that, what had she done so wrong. Oh she quickly remembered. She had said "gross" at the dinner table and her father came unglued. He punished her this way often but this night was different because he left her there for what seemed like hours. Next Charity flashed to a dark room with only a tv to light it. She glanced around the room and there was her father sleeping on the couch naked. She tip toed past in hopes not to wake him and make it to the bathroom unscathed by him. She hit the floor board in the room that creaked and up he sat, "what the hell are you doing?" Her father boomed this question as he jumped up out of his drunken stupor. Charity raced to the bathroom quietly expressing her need to use the restroom. Her father followed her to the bathroom and watched as she urinated. She quietly sat there in shock wondering if he was going to spank her for waking him. She finished using the restroom and went to leave the bathroom as her father grabbed her arm softly and said quietly, " we can spend some quiet quality time together." He directed Charity to the couch where he took her innocence from her. He touched her where he never should have, that was her dad. What was she to do. He told her every child's worst nightmare, that if she was to repeat what had happened between them that they would all be separated and never see each other again because DCFS wouldn't allow it. Charity was only six at this moment but she knew that she could never tell anyone about it. This was when Charity asked her mother for a diary. She wanted an escape of sorts and needed an outlet and her mother got her a little black leather notebook for her to use as a diary. It was a used book, pages were missing but there were lots of blank pages left and at the time it seemed like the best thing ever but the thoughts that she would write in them were the worst any child could conceive of thinking. Charity started writing that day she was around seven years old when she knew what had happened was wrong but she didn't understand why. She vowed to herself that it would never happen again. Never again would her father touch her in ways that made her cringe. It felt wrong. It felt dirty and Charity felt shame. Flashing back to the crowd of onlookers Charity saw her sister Margaret standing there. Margaret was Charity's older sister and Charity idolized her for every reason you could think. Charity owed a lot to her sister Margaret and would never forget it either. Margaret cried as she looked at Charity and Charity felt a tear roll down her cheek. Charity had another memory flash in front of her and it was her at age 8 or 9. Her and her family had just moved to town and she was outside playing with her new friend. Charity's mother came to the side door of the house and yelled for her daughter to come to her. Charity came as told and went in with her mother where she was terrified at what happened next. Her mother asked her to sit down at the kitchen table, "I have something very important to ask you. You are not in trouble but I need to know the truth." Charity glanced around wondering what she could possibly be talking about because after the "incident" Charity coined it as, she had completely thrown herself into a protective bubble so to speak. She never allowed herself to be alone with her father again. She never went to the bathroom in the middle of the night again, also meaning she had a questionable phase of bedwetting that she got beat for but never abused like that single night not long ago. What could her mother be talking about, what did she know? Her mother looked as though she had been crying which wasn't a new look to Charity because her father drank a ton and hit her mom often to the point of a need for a doctor's visit but never did he get into any trouble for these offenses. No one ever told. Her mother then said something Charity would never forget, "has your father ever touched you in a way that made you uncomfortable?" Charity felt the blood drain from her face and she didn't know what to say this was her mother after all and her father had made it perfectly clear not to tell anyone about what had happened, however Charity couldn't lie to her mother. She proceeded to rehash the "incident" to her mother's dismay. She cried and cried as she told her mom everything. Charity's mother then asked if she would go get Margaret from across the street that she needed to talk to her it was important. Charity wondered what she wanted from Margaret but didn't ask she just did as she was asked. Margaret was asked the same question and to Charity's surprise her sister too had been abused in the same way only multiple times over a period of 6-8 years. Her mother was horrified. How had she allowed this to happen to her daughters. Charity didn't blame her mother she loved her because she believed that now they would be safe from this monster of a man. Flash to crowd as Charity received her check and there stands her mother Michele, a wonderfully kind woman that was known now by the community as a mental health advocate and one of the most kind hearted people you could ever meet. Charity saw the tears in her mother's eyes. She then fast forwarded to her and her sister in their new room at their new house and their father was in there with them asking them to forgive him. Promising that he would never do it again, that he was sorry, could he please stay. Neither Charity nor Margaret said a word. He started screaming and for the first time Michele came to the rescue screaming at him to leave before she had him thrown in jail. He left quickly. Charity remembers the look in his eyes and glanced out to the crowd only to see the same glance looking back at him. Still no one knew what had happened to her and her sister. Michele couldn't press charges because if their father lost his job they would all be forced into shelters and she wasn't allowing her ex husband that right to tear us apart. So no charges were pressed and he remained in their lives still. Present day and he still continued to abuse the entire family physically, mentally, and emotionally. He used his words best against Charity so she learned to use hers. Charity was a straight A student and an excellent athlete. She threw herself into school activities to stay away from the horror as her sister did the opposite becoming sexually active and threw her life into partying and drugs. Different roads for different souls but all the same circumstances. A middle level income white family in rural suburbia life and no one had a a clue of the "incident." So for the seminar Charity decided to use her life as her inspiration. She took the evil heinous thoughts she put on the pages of her little black diary and put them into a story no one would ever believe. Who would believe this young meek and mild daughter of the town's kindest woman ever went through these life altering traumas. The book read as a thriller. Charity was able to paint the picture of poverty she came from that chilled the readers to the bone. She spoke of cracks she could see through in the walls of her childhood home. She wrote of nights they all slept in their heavy winter coats and mittens and hats because they had no heat. She remembered going hungry because her father needed alcohol or he was too drunk to drive them to town for groceries. She wrote of the horrific incident and of the outcoming of the unspoken secret that went unpunished. She wrote an entire novel that appeared to a first time reader just as that an act of fiction. That is why she found herself in front of this town wide gathering receiving something she never deemed possible, monetary recognition for her writing. Her parents knew this was no work of fiction. Her sister knew that this was all truth and not made up to entice readers. They watched in amazement as Charity received an award of $20,000. College was now possible, maybe. What would she do next? She graciously accepted the award and quietly left the grand stand to join her family that was walking on pins and needles because they didn't want to ruin her moment but they didn't want her moment to ruin their lives. They had all gone on with their lives as if nothing had ever happened and kept it all swept neatly under the rug, that was until that reporter came to town to announce the competition to be in the seminar. One week until the seminar and people were fact checking all the submitted writings just to be sure they truly were fictional and original. As this week of scrutiny went on Charity worried that someone may find her diary and realize this was actually a writing of autobiographical form and not fiction. This in fact could ruin everything she worked so hard to achieve. She hid the diary in a hole in her wall behind a poster. The week of fact checking ended and Charity went on to be an expert go to at the writing seminar. She was making a difference in her small town and people were noticing her now. She went 17 years without being noticed or talked about much. She was blending in to the back drop of all occasions hoping not to draw much attention to herself because she suffered from such horrible trauma it left her feeling like an outcast. So she was quiet and shy until she finally had an outlet. The summer ended and it was her senior year of high school. She walked with her head held high into her school on the first day and everyone knew her name. She was popular in a nerdy kind of way. Everyone knew her but still she was in the back ground. There was a newspaper article with her picture next to it in the trophy case at the front door for being a pivotal member of the town's library expansion and for sharing her creative writing with all that were willing to read. Wrapping up all the details into a nice neat bow Charity finished her high school days with her head still held high and her name always remembered.