I knew I was different
When I was 10 years old in 1957 someone gave me this thick dense book with tiny little type called Little Women. Because it was there and it had words to read, I read it. My father found me in my room late one night reading it and said "wow that is a book I read in college," and seemed really impressed. It was then that I knew I was at least an advanced reader for my age. I felt special. It stayed with me forever and contributed to my strong self esteem. I never minded being different or nerdy. Now when people trade victim-of-bully stories from their youth, I never have any. I always never cared what others thought because in a non- arrogant way I always thought I had a different brain, one that liked to read and could do it well. But now I must get back to the latest new Jane Smiley novel I am reading.