My Story

Dreams, ideas, memories, they spin inside us until it’s hard to tell which is which. I suppose writing my story festered in my mind all of my life, until finally I had to tell it to someone before my story would vanish from the earth.
Back when I was fourteen, I remember the time when I made a phone call to someone I had never met, but whose name I had pulled out of the phone book. Putting on a grownup's voice, I said, “Kristina! Kristina! It’s me! I just made fresh dumplings, common over.” I must have sounded so familiar that, without asking who I was, she just said, “What time?”
Joking and fooling people has been a part of me as far as I can remember. (Writer's block...to be continued).