Why did Ima want to move so far from her family, from her friends, her home?
It’s a letter.
That much is clear, even though it’s not addressed to anyone, and it’s not signed, either. I don’t need a signature to know it’s my mother’s teenage handwriting, though; it’s identical to the writing in the diary, down to the bright purple ink. The color is bursting with personality, energy, life.
But the letter… there is nothing lively or playful about it. The words are dark, angry…. Accusing.
You don’t understand me. I’ve tried telling you again and again.
This isn’t working. Why can’t you see it? Why can’t you see ME?
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