Orange Poppies/Green River

There is a cemetery in Gowanda, where the graves are marked mostly with numbers, instead of names…

It occurred to me last night, while talking to my nephew about grad school options for down the road, that had I been born 50 years earlier, it is likely that my grave would have been one of those.

My nephew said I will need to write about the “why” of grad school…

The fact that I am here, sitting in my new car, writing on Facebook, contemplating my future, rather than locked on a ward, standing in line for an unmarked grave is my “why.”

I would like to be part of the reason a woman like me, 50 years in the future, has a better shot at life than I did.

I think I have that in me.

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