locating life stacey wiseman
Where I took the initiative to boldly to stand up for myself. Age 3.
Where I met my lifelong best friend at the age of 5. Where she married her love. Where my firstborn was christened. Where we talk about life and are forced to acknowledge death.
Where I stood frozen as a little girl when a man in a white van wanted to talk to me. He asked where my mother was. He said he was an old friend. Tell her hi. I know I was almost a pile of bones in a ditch, a flyer on a telephone pole, and a candle lit in remembrance.
Where I learned to climb a tree, feed a horse apples through the fence, and make dinner rolls from scratch.
Where I fell in love with history. Art history. And who I was becoming.
Where I shared a slice of Forest Park pie during business lunches with some of my most favorite people in the world.
Where I was when I heard that a plane hit the first tower.
Where I felt very alone.
Where I listened to the women my age casually talk about their fathers being in the KKK. And shuddered deeply. I was in the wrong place.
Where I felt like a real artist for the first time.
Where I realized my life was no longer just about me.
Where I realized the power of hope.