I always had been a big quiet girl. Well not that big but I took up space. My breast, hips, and thighs boasted of a young woman in her late teens early twenties, but I was just a child of 11. My mother who prided herself in raising me single-handily had the hard job of protecting her baby girl from predators. She was the mother eagle who glided above me, far enough for me to gain my independence but close enough to swoop down and sink her talons into predators.
Sometimes I was angry of her eagle like stealth. Not old enough to understand, I felt like her way of raising me hinder my being. The bond between us was so strong. When I hurt she became angry and changed into something I couldn't stand seeing. At times that anger was spilled over to me and her tears were fierce and quick. I learned at an early age how to go inside of myself and never tell about anyone who hurt me.
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