A Guest Writer

A Guest Writer

Today I’m stepping aside and letting another writer take over. It’s my daughter, Maggie—not the 26-year-old adult who is exploring the wilds of Chicago but the cutie who grew up in our house.

Sometime around the age of six she started sporadically keeping a diary. Recently I came across it, and she has given me permission to include a few of the entries.   

November 25, 2003
Well, it is fun and grampa is over taking a nap and my dad is reading and my mom is making bread sticks. I am excited because my dad is going to read me a story with math problems and I get to write them down on a pad and after that I get to read with mom

December 18, 2004
I am now so excited because I am having a slumber party and we are going to make gingerbread houses and then sleep over 4 girls are coming to my house not including me   

March 28, 2005
Me and my mom are feeling bad. Me because I have pink eye and mom because she lost a whole 5 hours of work on the computer, now she is saying bad words.

May 5, 2006
It is my birthday! I am 9!   

June 4, 2006
I have nothing to say.

December 8, 2007
I can’t believe that the last time I typed on this was in January! This is so strange! I remember 2003. Ah, good old 2003.

When Maggie was twelve, she talked us into buying a goldfish. The fish, a male she named Goldina, lasted a week. We bought another fish, Goldina 2. This one lasted three weeks. She immediately wanted to try again, this time with a betta fish. When I expressed my doubts, she and her friend Hope wrote a poem.   

Well maybe i killed a fish
okay, maybe twice. 
And then we gave up.
If everyone gave up, where would we be now?
If George Washington gave up
every time he was stressed,
where would we be now?
If African Americans gave up 
every time they were put in jail, 
where would we be now?
If Christopher Columbus gave up
every time he tried to prove the Earth was round
and no one believed him,
where would we be now?
These people did not give up
because they had faith,
and Hope. (He he he)
So please, consider my pleas
for the betta fish of love and wonder.  

We bought a betta fish. Maggie named it Harley Davidson. Harley died. It didn't seem to phase her.

       -From Dream Girl: Growing Up with Maggie


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