I suppose a lot of people are born not fitting into the holes the world issues very well. Some do a good job of whittling themselves to fit; others carve out the hole to fit them. I think for the most part I have just chosen holes in Jello that stretch this way and that but don’t provide a good foundation. I have always thought I wanted to be like others – with a neat house and a nicely presented dinner table. That would have been nice for my family, I know it. But I never did it. Not that I didn’t love them. It was just . . . frankly, I don’t know. It was, for lack of any other way to put it, it was just AmeliaJake.

Now is the time, in writings that express ideas like this, that it is kind of expected for the person doing the expressing to decide it hasn’t been so bad, that the oddness has perhaps been a blessing, that if their peg and hole matched better they wouldn’t be so delightfully unique.

Well, that’s one way to live with it and it’s tempting to think that way. . . but I don’t think it’s so. I wish I had been wise enough to compromise a little –  to realize that some of my quirks were luxuries that embarrassed and caused those I love discomfort.

I regret that. I hope they know that . . . because I have loved them more than life itself. And, maybe, I can come up with a new, improved AmeliaJake. I sure hope so.