I was born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia. With the help of my grandfather and with help from her long time boyfriend, my divorced mother successfully raised my sister who is seven years my senior and me. As children, my sister and I lived very comfortable lives, if there was anything that we needed or wanted it was given to us, and unfortunately, we didn’t have to earn it, we just thought that money dropped out of trees, but eventually we learned otherwise. As both my sister and I grew older, our close relationship lost some of its potency. She married her high school sweet heart and later left the state when he joined the military. I was so heart broken, I felt so alone even though I had many friends, playing with them could not fill the void in my heart. To fill the void, every night before going to bed I would pull my pencil and notebook out from under my bed and write down my agonizing feelings. I would write and write and write, until I would fall asleep. My sister eventually moved back to Georgia and my sadness was gone, but my writing continued. I began to make up stories about my feelings. As for my sister, we see each other all the time. We both have children and grandchildren and we live just a few miles away from each other.