Blurred Lines

Part One

I have always had a fascination with the written words. From my earliest days, I would spend my time reading. At first, like everyone else, I looked at the pictures and tried to figure out what the words meant. As soon as I learned to read, I was never without a book. I not only read but I memorized every word and punctuation, often even reading the punctuation marks along with the words. 

In the first grade, the teacher assigned a writing exercise. We had to write a ghost story for Halloween. While the other students wrote a few sentences, I filled several pages with words and paragraphs. It was at that point that I realized I wanted to write stories. 

I was never a strong child. I quickly wearied during the slightest exercise and totally sucked at physical education.  I couldn't play baseball, basketball, tennis or gymnastics--although I did love dance class. I wanted to become a ballerina for a long time and even took dance classes. I dropped out quickly due to exhaustion. 

My life turned more toward reading and writing--both low-impact activities. It was something I always enjoyed doing, and I was happy doing it. I grew up on the Jersey Shore. It's a laid-back place in the summertime. Every day was a beach day full of sun and surf and swimming. My friends and I spent our time doing nothing, drifting around and soaking in the general laziness of a child's life. It was idyllic. 

A new girl joined the class during the second grade, and we became best friends instantly. We got along mostly, but she had a tempestuous disposition. The slightest thing set her off. One day, she stole my lunch and threw it away. So, I paid her back the next day and threw away her lunch. I took it as the joke it was and did without for a day. She, on the other hand, went ballistic on the playground. We had a huge fight- you know- hair pulling, punching, and rolling around on the ground. She eventually grabbed a handful of sand and threw it into my face.   

I went immediately to the nurse's office, where my eyes were washed out. Everything seemed fine, and I went back to class. After a few days, my eyes became infected. My parents took me to the eye doctor immediately, and, in the process, I ended up with very thick lens glasses. My sight and my eyes were permanently damaged. 

My parents took me to eye doctor after eye doctor, trying to discover a solution for the infection. Up to this day, no one has offered a real diagnosis for my condition. My vision is now less than 20/80. I struggle day-to-day and lead a very low-key life. 

I find a means of escape in creating stories and characters who take me far away from my real life. There is a great deal of solace in everything I can accomplish. I may not be able to see correctly, but my mind is full of new places to explore and people to meet. Most of the time, it's difficult to get them on paper, but I push forward determinedly.  It's mostly relief and escape that drives me to get away from my day-to-day life.