F rom H er e
to
T h er e
“She did, you know.” I looked at Queen Patchouli. “Mom is a commercial airline pilot, and those jobs are usually held by men.” “I know,” Queen Patchouli said. “We’re very proud of Marissa. Now it’s your turn.” The book opened to a blank page. I picked up the golden pen and dipped it into the silvery-blue ink, but I hesitated before writing. I wanted to fly, but not in airplanes like my mother. I wanted to fly under my own power with no external help. But, despite Queen Patchouli’s advice, I didn’t feel comfortable writing that. It seemed too frivolous for a book that had recorded generations of girls’ innermost secret desires. What did I really want out of life? Ever since I was little, my mother had told me that I could be and do anything I wanted. All the women in our family had achieved their sky-high dreams and aspirations. I dipped the pen in the ink again and wrote:
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