Wednesday, May 6, 2009

July 4, 1942

The further I read through my grandmother's journal, the more I see that my small problems dealing with the gift are nothing compared to what she went through.

Dad came home today with a couple of broken ribs and a bloody nose. He told
me to hide with my brother so I did. “You must take care of him” he insisted, “I
will be gone soon I cannot fight it”

They busted in and threw him to the floor. “Your daughter or your
life”, they told him. He spit on them and told them to take his life because
they were not touching his daughter. They threw him to the floor again face
first and dragged him out by his feet. "Your daughter is special. She has the
gift. We will find her they promised".

When the coast was clear I ran for it over to my aunts and told her
what happened. My cousin looked at me and cried. He was so sorry for what he had
done. He told someone at school about my dream and the baby. He promised to be
my protector from now on. I find it hard to talk to him now because of what

I hope you are benefiting from these entries as much as I am. It feels so good to get it all out in the open.

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