Thursday, April 29, 2010
A few weeks ago, following a Fox Cities Book Festival school assembly, a young Wisconsin boy stood last in a long line, waiting patiently to speak with me. When it was his turn, he slipped a bookmark into my hand. I read the words he had written on its back. They described a young man in a heartrending situation. His final written words, Would you write this story for me?
Is this your story? I asked him, and the boy nodded yes.
It sounds like a very hard story.
He nodded again.
A story that needs telling.
He nodded again, then looked up at me with large and too dark eyes.
I've been haunted since.