People Write To Me All The Time,

My Love For Him Had Never Gone Away But Only Changed, Growing Deeper Like Wine Fermenting Or Pickles Curing. It Bore Into Me With The Pervasiveness Of Water Working Its Way To The Center Of A Mountain.

A Brave Heart? It Feels Like A Swollen And Aching Thing In My Chest.

When I Knew I Couldn't Suffer Another Moment Of Pain, And Tears Fell On My Bloody Bindings, My Mother Spoke Softly Into My Ear, Encouraging Me To Go One More Hour, One More Day, One More Week, Reminding Me Of The Rewards I Would Have If I Carried On A Little Longer. In This Way, She Taught Me How To Endure — Not Just The Physical Trials Of Footbinding And Childbearing But The More Torturous Pain Of The Heart, Mind, And Soul.

I Am Old Enough To Know Only Too Well My Good And Bad Qualities, Which Were Often One In The Same.

Let Those Who Believe, Believe. Let Those Who Doubt, Doubt.