Between Words



Julie is busy inspecting the proof of the story she penned about me, so she asked if I would write this message for her. Did you hear that? If you didn’t, Julie just yelled from the other room that I wrote my own story, and she just put her name on the cover. She is too modest. That girl really must learn to give herself some credit. I know that it was not an easy task to take the journey through my life.

The trials and tribulations that fell upon my path through America brought Julie to tears at times. She often questioned how I could endure such tragedy yet continue on. I had to remind her often that it was simply the way life was for many of us immigrants. And I did not let her forget that I was one of the fortunate ones who was allowed to enter the United States. I kept telling her that she should be more concerned about the potential immigrants in her world who are turned away from creating a life in the land of the free where they could contribute to the tapestry that is America.

I don’t recognize the America of the twenty-first century. I’m thankful that I get to witness it from afar—from the space between Julie’s words. I don’t think I would care for experiencing the chaos that is wrapped around the country. I do believe that if I were forced to dwell in your space, I would lead a march to the White House grounds with those who have been cast aside and speak my mind about how I see people being mistreated. One thing I do recognize is that life is far too short and far too precious to let a self-centered person dictate how your world should spin—no matter what century it is.

Well, that was a joy to try my hand at using this invention that Julie tells me is called a keyboard to communicate with you in cyberspace. Julie didn’t have to explain that place to me because it is just a click away from where I dwell. But now my hands are telling me that time would be well spent if I made a batch of ginger cookies for my companions where I typically perch.

Farewell–until Julie asks me to fill in for her again. Which I know she will because my extra ears are telling me so.


Ellen Egan

© 2020 by Julie Ryan. All rights reserved
No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Julie Ryan

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