AUTOBIO

When I was born, I died a little bit. My first sight was not my mother, nor my father. It was my next door neighbor. At that moment, I knew my life was to be an adventure.

Fun is a temporary happiness. Adventures aren't supposed to be fun. They're dangerous and scary and almost always completely unknown. You learn from your little "adventures" though. They teach you how to live.

The second my parents learned I could open my eyes they introduced me to Cooper. Our parents had been great friends since high school. All of my siblings were friends with his siblings and here I came, to be friends with Cooper. He had a summer birthday like me. He was nearly one. His birthday was on July 21st, exactly twenty days after mine. Cooper's parents had decided to hold him back rather than let him go to school and be a runt. I am eternally grateful for that. We grew up together. We were best friends from the moment I knew I was alive. Cooper being in my grade basically got me through my teenage years.

I was lucky. I had someone who taught me how to live. Many people don't, and if they do it's an adult. I had a baby teach me.

See, you don't want an adult to teach you because then your imagination will run away into the darkness, and being human, you're afraid of the dark. Imagination doesn't like reality.

Adults are born from reality.

I was born from my mother, who is an adult. She hardly raised me, though. She didn't teach me about fashion or dance or how to do a five strand Dutch braid. My sister Charlotte did. She didn't teach me to laugh. Cooper did. She didn't teach me how to be a human being. I taught myself.

I loved my mother. She adored her baby. Third girl didn't make my dad too happy. They brought me into our big new house on Speckled Stars Avenue right next door to Hendon Myles and Cooper Greene and Montana Sampson.

The first weeks I don't remember. I had a baby blue crib-spread to match my baby blue curtains. Blue was the trademark for Vivienne Lydia Boyd in our family. Reyna was purple, Charlotte was pink, and my parents were white.

My parents often let me roam. They never paid much attention to me, mainly because my childhood did not require it. Reyna hated me from the second I came home. I spilled hot chocolate all over her pink, fuzzy pants. I broke her brand new piggy bank and stole all her money. I cut her American Girl Doll's hair. I ate all of her favorite cereal. All of these things killed our relationship. Charlotte, on the other hand, saw me as her doll and her best friend. She named all of her dolls and stuffed animals Vivienne. It was precious. Our relationship has not changed a bit.

Our house didn't like me. I fell down the stairs several times (although all quite suspiciously when Reyna was around). I guess our house wasn't ideal for a baby: a big blue four story high farmhouse. I ended up being okay. I think all that falling woke up my brain.

My parents were amazing. They supported my imagination all throughout my childhood. Daddy would play princesses with me and Mommy would be the dragon. I was a productive kid, and was obsessed with every little detail of every little thing I did. When we built our playroom, I made sure we had all the necessities (magical towers, a farmhouse, play food, Barbie dolls, normal dolls, stuffed animals, and some boy toys for Daddy). Our playroom was to the left of our stairs on the second floor, and it was completely open. Reyna felt self-conscious playing there because of the openness, so she only played in her room. She started isolating herself before I even got to know her.

The moment I turned two, I was put in dance with my sisters. I loved it. I still do.

Little toes tapping, I was suddenly three. For my present, I got my first cello, Noodles. I named him after Mr. Noodles from Sesame Street. Noodles and our purple baby grand piano, Barney, were best friends.

Three was my milestone. My crib was rapidly changed into a daybed. Daddy built a cello stand into my wall so I could never ever quit. I could do a two octave G scale by the time I was five and a half. Piano was my third love. Piano duets were the family home evening show. It was usually Reyna and my mother or Reyna and Charlotte. My playing skills were still at pianissimo. 

I lived. I feel like a lot of people don't know how to do that. They only know how to survive. I knew how to live.

I hope I still do.

Man, I hope I still do.

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"As I am. As I am. All or not at all."

-James Joyce