December 16, 1956
Burlington, Vermont
The day I was born. The room was dim, and the diffused winter sunlight struggled to pass through the slats of the old Venetian blinds. Dust motes were drifting in the late afternoon light and the room was quiet and warm. We were in a rocking chair and my mother was holding me. I was comfortable and safe in her arms, and then she kissed me goodbye and didn't come back.
I thought that my heart would break. I felt an intense, absolute, and desolate sadness and grief. This loss has formed my personality and my character, and has made me terrified of losing people, family, husbands, lovers and friends. I have spent much of my life being scared of being alone, and afraid of starving to death, both physically and emotionally.
