I’d like to turn this into a poem, so I can dance between the spaces instead, because after four decades on the planet, I still don’t know how to define myself in words. So, here I go.
Jenny, the loving?
Jenny, the changer?
Jenny, the encourager?
Jenny, the artist?
I am Jenny.
I am.
I am.
This is going nowhere fast.
Jenny, the rambler?
Maybe I’ll put some pictures in here to help me illustrate the words along the way.
My Mom says I was a pretty happy baby. After my mother’s seventy-two hours of labor (God bless her) guess I decided it was time to come into (pulled into?) this world and give her some happy after that ordeal.
The setting of my childhood was idyllic, a cottage by a lake. Lake in the front, lake in the back (and sometimes in the kitchen.)