My mother and her friend climbed in the rumble seat. It was 1932. They could do that because life was different then.

My father always liked to have her around. He was so proud of how she looked. She was so pretty, small and petite.

She raised him like her own son.

My mother always told me I wouldn't amount to anything because I procrastinate. I said 'Just wait.'

Are you there God? It's me, Margaret. I just told my mother I want a bra. Please help me grow God. You know where. I want to be like everyone else.

Anything that comes easy, comes wrong.