Posted on February 13, 2014
For as long as I can remember, since I knew how to speak even, there have been words that I wanted to say, but could not. There were things that I felt, things that I thought. But I never shared those things. And everyone thought that I was just shy.
I remember going to restaurants with my mother when I was 10 years old. She’d hand me the kids’ menu and we would sit quietly while she decided what she wanted to order. When the waitress arrived and asked us if we were ready to order, my mother began ordering her meal: one cobb salad with unsweetened iced tea. Once she was finished, the waitress turned to me.
“And what would you like tonight?” she asked.
I’d like the fish and chips with orange juice, I thought.
But my mother stepped in … like she always does. “My son will have the pasta with broccoli. Milk to drink.” I didn’t say a word.