... Survival Is The Least Of My

Twenty Years After We Had Left So Fierce And Proud, We Were All Right Back Where We Had Started, Yoked To Each Other And The Same Old Drama.

I Was No Cherokee. I Was No Warrior. I Was Nobody Special. I Was Just A Girl, Scared And Angry. When I Saw Myself In Daddy Glen's Eyes, I Wanted To Die. No, I Wanted To Be Already Dead, Cold And Gone. Everything Felt Hopeless. He Looked At Me And I Was Ashamed Of Myself. It Was Like Sliding Down An Endless Hole, Seeing Myself At The Bottom, Dirty, Ragged, Poor, Stupid.

Two Or Three Things I Know For Sure, And One Is That I'd Rather Go Naked Than Wear The Coat The World Has Made For Me.

Gravy Is The Simplest, Tastiest, Most Memory-laden Dish I Know How To Make: A Little Flour, Salt And Pepper, Crispy Bits Of Whatever Meat Anchored The Meal, A Couple Of Cups Of Water Or Milk And Slow Stirring To Break Up Lumps.

She Got A Reputation For An Easy Smile And A Sharp Tongue, And Using One To Balance The Other, She Seemed Friendly But Distant