When my friends and I get together, we reminise about the "old days". We came from different places physically and fituritively. But we share many experiences in common. Some of us have siblings, but others don't. Some of us were inner city kids, but others weren't. One thing we have in common is that we all realize that memories, both bad and good have made us who we are.

The events our minds have immortalized shaped who we became. It was the bad things that make the good look so much better. It's like standing in the valley making the mountain look taller.

For me, it was not where I lived that made me feel unsafe in my own home, it was who I lived with. I have one friend who shared the same nightmare I did, from 2500 miles away. The result was that she and I protected our children with a passion bred of experience.

I used to admire the women who didn't remember abuse until later in life, I simply never forgot. I locked it away, but the lock was weak and it surfaced over and over again throughout my life. I finally considered myself healed when I could talk about it without suffering the pain and crying the tears.

Any of you who have read my work, know that I believe in happy endings because I am living proof of one. I not only survived, I have learned to thrive because I choose to allow only the happy memories to affect my life. The memories I dwell on are the days my children were born, the day I first made the dean's list in college, the reviews you all have been kind enough to post on my poems. These are the real memories that I cherish, they along with my faith have made what could have been a desterous life into a productive and fulfilling one.

So sort through your memories, discard the hurtful ones and cherish the good one. 

Love Bobbi