I’m seven, I love to color and watch 3,2,1 Contact on PBS. I have a secret spot in the hemlock trees in the back yard. I sleep on a top bunk where my purplish-pink reading light is clipped. My hair is wild and untamed and my front teeth are still growing in. I’m only aware of myself in spurts. I remember sitting at my desk looking out a window and having a talk with God about whom I was going to marry.