So, after a long hard day I finally get back to my, well for lack of a better word, home. I have to take the fire escape and climb in through a bedroom window. I slink over to the closed door and slowly open it. The door creaks and complains, of course.
I ease my head out and…..
“Trina, what are you doing girl, sneaking around like that. Like to give me my death.”
That is my mother’s housekeeper Anna. I come fully out of my room.
“I am a “starving artist”, I’m not supposed to have a home or anything. I need you and momma to ignore me.”
“Oh, child,” she says, “You do take on the funniest notions.”
Anna takes me by the hand and leads me into the kitchen.
“For an 8 year old, you sure have an imagination. You need to keep that imagination, but you shouldn’t starve it.”
“I thought to be an artist you had to be hungry.”
“Oh ya, hungry to get to your goal, but not to starve yourself. Eat. What are you wanting to do that you need to be so hungry for anyway?”
“I want to be an escape artist, or a kitty burglar.”