When I say "car," it doesn’t sound like a crow crying out. I don’t “warsh up” or “dash off to the loo.” I say, "Hi." Not “howdy.” Or “Hey.” But when Lesley tells me where she’s from, she sounds like a pageant girl with golden blonde flowing hair, singing. “Louise-e-anna,” and claws scrape at my insides. I want to be from another time or place. I want to sprinkle y’alls around me like water dripping from a can. But her dancing words leave with her, and the only way I can make them mine is with paper and a pen.
Whitney Weisenberg is a writer, an artist, a teacher, a Master Educator, a mother of two daughters, and a member of SCBWI. Instagram: @w_whitney