I tried it today. I sat and thought about myself as a child. The scenes that came easily were the times I felt along (in a closet hiding with the money, in my bed on Lakeside, writing at my rolltop desk, in my big room at Nana’s). And I tried to reach out to that lonely little girl. And I saw myself out on the field at Wyman, always the new kid, never feeling good enough. I tried to tell her she was not alone, and then I realized that she still feels the same way.

I think I did something wrong, and maybe it was bad timing because I just got a rejection letter from the only interview I had. Maybe I’m not supposed to tell her that she’s not alone. Maybe I’m just supposed to let her know that I cherish her. If I love her, do I love who she is now?

I think Susan may [be] one of the most important people who has ever entered my life. She listens, lets me ramble, and then, with a few words, points me in a new direction. I hope we are able to work all this self-image stuff out, because it occurs to me that a lot of my future may depend on it.
Kathleen A. Gagne