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I have had a heart condition ever since the day Daddy got home after a hard days work, saw me at the top of the stairs and announced. “Hunny, I’m home, is dinner ready? I was 16 years old and he mistook me for my mother. Yes the first signs of the tragedy revealed themselves on that blustery Autumn day. I felt the exhaustion you feel when you are diagnosed with a terrible illness as The words of Granny S rung in my ears in her aerodite, snooty manner, “You are a product of your environment Girl, you get your brains from Gary and your legs from me, did I tell you about the time I was blossom queen . . . Yes Granny.” I had just made an insignificant discovery, perhaps the most prevalent crisis to my self- image. You are a product your environment and worse still . . . “ We are turning, or some of us may have made this transistion, into our parents!” I now understood the fuddy duddies at the family barbecues, “You are a chip of the old block you aren’t ya, sweetheart, isn’t she?”. Yes I sure felt like a piece of sawdust, but simmering in my insignificance, I was determined to get to the bottom of this generational evolution. It appears that the path of our lives depends on two things.
Approximate Word count = 878
Approximate Pages = 3.5
(250 words per page double spaced)
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