The Beginning of My Story

I was born at Stanford University where IQ’s come out ahead of the babies. As a child I was bright, both in temperament and in intelligence. I had a high IQ. I was the second of two girls born into a family with many issues it wished to hide. A psychologist by nature, I investigated my family from the inside out.
My mother was an innocent who was afraid of her mother-in-law, my Grandma Ethe. This was no accident. My father had suffered at his mother’s overly-assertive hands and was naturally drawn toward a sweet, naive woman to be his bride. Ethel, on the other hand, was a loud, outspoken woman with opinions. She had large hips, a large bust, and she swaggered when she walked, especially if she was upset about something. She was up-to-date on political affairs, had published a book at the age of 40, and had lost a young child, all of which she didn’t mind telling you about.
My mother, on the other hand, was not up on political affairs, chose not to have opinions, and, in general, treated the world in an English sort of way. She did not have large hips and a large bust, and she quietly disliked any woman who did.

©2014 Mosiacally18

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One Response to The Beginning of My Story

  1. Reblogged this on Pen In Hand and commented:

    While visiting my mom in Oregon, I met another writer and we set up a blog together. I am going to enjoy reading her posts!

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