I am a writer. An author is what I aspire to be and very soon. actually. I am a paranormal/fantasy/weird/lunatic type writer. Weirdly enough, I read books set in the 1500 or 1600s. The reason is I absolutely love history and I would rather have my own style of writing than to mimic some great writers that I know. That's just me... I started this blog to introduce myself to world. My book of short stories are now in process of being edited for publishing. It took me 7 years to get this done. Why? Because I've never been very confident in my writing, being torn apart by "smart people" who hadn't even read my stories. I was finally convinced to step out on faith because of first my husband, my adult children, and then my friends and associates that have read them and said I was wasting time sitting on them. I'm 45 years old and have always enjoyed writing but never in a million years would I have thought to publish and share me with the world. Who am I? I'm just a little girl who is tough as nails, who's constantly talking about giving up and becoming discourage but for some reason she never does, a little girl that married her prince charming and had four beautiful children.
My name is Valorie , meaning Valor, Valiant Warrior, Valorous, Strong, Strength and Powerful. It took me all these years to face my past and now I can turn to my future and smile. Here is my story, this is why I stand strong today.
Letters
to myself
You stole that perfume pendant from your sister’s
friend and then took your Kindergarten pictures with it on. Stealing will make
you a dishonest person. I don’t remember anyone ever chastising you for that
once the picture came home. Your mother and father should have questioned you.
I’m 45 years old and would like to say be honest, you’re beautiful and smart
and don’t need things to make you happy. It’s ok… I know you long for your dad
to give you a bit more attention but now I know he’s a mentally sick man. One
of my favorite memories that I now cherish and wish I could go back where you
are right now is him picking you and Felecia up from daycare. I remember he had
on a gray jogging suit and white gym shoes. He jogged up to get you guys and
then you walked back. He was a hero in your eyes. He was everything. Just
remember nothing that happens while you’re young is your fault but once you
reach an age of understanding of consequences, take responsibility for the
things that you create. I know you don’t hear it enough, if ever, but I love
you little girl. You are beautiful, smart, creative (I mean that), powerful,
athletic, and one day you’re gonna be an absolutely good wife and mother.
Love, yourself.
Dear Valorie,
I’m calling you Valorie because this is very
important. I want you to listen clearly. If I could hug you and tell you how
important you are I would. You’re so adorable. Your little crooked teeth and
your beautiful eyes are so cute. You have so much happiness and hope in your
eyes. Your eyes sparkle with innocence and love for mommy and daddy. You love
laying in the bed beside daddy. I see how you tuck your little body underneath
his hairy arm.
So much energy consumes you. You love running and
fighting. You love dirtying up your clothes. You love life. You love waking up
and eating breakfast that you mommy made. You love princess, your mixed German Shepherd.
I remember you playing hide and seek and laughing so hard it hurt. It’s scary
when he chases you but fun at the same time. You love the dresses that your mom
sews. You feel prettier than any girl at church and your mom always buys you
Avon purses and perfume.
I remember you sitting at the table eating mash
potatoes and peas. You hate peas so you decided to make eating them fun. You
scooped a pile of mash potatoes in your mouth and squeezed them out. Felecia
laughed so hard. Daddy said stop. You saw how hard it made Felecia laugh so you
did it again. Daddy must have been having a rough day that day because he had
no patience for you. He grabbed you from
the table and held me in the air by your ankle. All I remember you doing is screaming
and mommy saying put her down. He yelled, “Ok, you want me to put her down? I’ll
put her down,” and he dropped you on your head. You were in 1st
grade. You were skinny, helpless and small and he was your hero. I’m so sorry I
brought up a memory that you buried…
Oct 18, 2015
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