The Written Word Is Power

So I’m Writing My Mom a Letter

Photo by Jeremy Wong on Unsplash

I learned to read and write before the age of five. I was anxious to learn and my mom and dad bought me any book I wanted. My mom took me to story time at the library every week and they took turns reading to me at night.

It wasn’t until the age of seven though that I learned the lesson of how powerful the written word was.

My parents had bought me a diary, and after getting angry with my mom, I vented my anger in those diary pages. Several days later, she called me into her bedroom.

My diary sat in her lap and I will never forget how angry I was that she had taken my diary and read it. I wanted to rip it from her hands, but looking at her glossy, red-rimmed eyes, I was filled with shame.

“If you are going to write something, you need to learn how to spell it correctly. The word, “Bitch” is spelled B-I-T-C-H.”

I was a pretty good child and I knew I was in trouble.

“Read this to me.”

My hands shook as I took that diary from her and read out loud: “I hate her. She’s a bich.”

I watched as she struggled to compose herself. She took a deep breath and let it out.