My mother says that when God was passing out hips and thighs, He gave her someone else’s.
Her sturdy lower half of her body just doesn’t quite fit her petite waist and slender shoulders. And I have inherited my mother’s body. The truth is that’s actually a pretty good thing. It means I was a fat baby, a skinny kid, and kept my fit teenage body all the way into mid-thirties. In fact, all three of my siblings and I looked like we were seventeen starting at the age of twelve until we were thirty-five. Well, now I am thirty-five.
When I told my older cousin about this piece I was writing he said, “Emily Dickinson, she was quite a recluse,” but that is not why I decided upon her for my piece.
Emily Dickinson – the now well known American Poet, was not well known in her time, and yet she created anyway. She had to, because writing was clearly one of the biggest parts of her purpose here on earth, to communicate these words in such a unique form that they now impact our lives today.