As I extend my fingers through heaps of papers I’ve deemed as either sentimental treasures or worthless junk, I can’t help but search through my memories too. Sure, I can flip through alphabet tracings and convoluted personal narratives from my early days as a writer, but only my own mind can remind me of what came before all of that. Some time before Kindergarten, I sat cross-legged on the carpet of my living room, back against the couch, and imagined. With a picture book laid across my lap but no skill at deciphering the strange symbols above the illustrations, I rambled on and on to nobody in particular. Where a reasonable person might have, you know, asked someone to read the story to them or tried to understand the book by the pictures, I went rogue.
Once I learned to trace the alphabet with dotted lines and sound out those tricky words, there was no return, but even though I knew how to read stories already written, I never stopped voicing the ones in my head. On monotonous car rides, a tiny red notepad changed the game.
Then, in third grade, I became a newsgirl. There was no jaunty cap in sight nor a rugged bike. I distributed the newspaper that I wrote. From veterinarian appointments to life advice I plagiarized from cartoons—I didn’t know about journalistic integrity back then. The newspaper was a recurring thing each week, until it wasn’t. What had been my pride and joy, the Kado Chronicle—the thing I shoved into the hands of anybody I knew—lost its fun factor. My mom was just as discouraged as I was. Each week, she’d gently encourage me to pick up my publication again, but once it faded out, it was done.
The remnants of the Kado Chronicle lay in my personal email address until junior year, when a certain Becca Koch offered to let me continue her iconic book column after she graduated. Grappling with different names that didn’t quite click, I was reminded of the root of it all.
My heart sings along with my mind every time I see “Kado Chronicle” in a real headline. Thank you for the opportunity to revive my imagination, to read and to write.
Sooo…bye, readers.
See you on the other side of the page.
