When she was a small weed of a kid there wasn’t much to do apart from the radio on Sunday nights when her family tuned in to listen to the news and the weekly radio serial.
The rest of her days were taken up with survival.
Her sickly mother had become as another child in the household and abrogated responsibility for the welfare of the babies to her. She’d quickly become adept at changing nappies, making formula and feeding the two smaller ones.
She found solace in the books she found lying around the house, most of them penny romances her mother read while lying in bed and most likely age inappropriate for her, but words fascinated her and she devoured each one.
She didn’t consider herself as the owner of any special talent but as she aged the opportunity to write came and she applied her skill to writing her story in her unique way.
It was more a cathartic exercise than anything else but once published she found an audience who had similar experiences and who drew from her strength to begin their own journey.
She wrote of innocence lost, of deception from within family and the battle she faces each day with her own brand of demon.
The little girl grew up, touched the lives of so many, discovered her own compassion and ability to reach out to others had not been stolen from her along with her innocence.
Today she exercises her talents once again, writing the words of a story she knows is hers and one that inspires many.