scribblechic

Confession: I’ve never read “To Kill a Mockingbird.”

As an avid reader and English major it would seem an unlikely truth, an illogical possibility, that I could have avoided this inevitability.

For years, when others spoke to me in broad sweeping assumptions, I relished the misconception that I must have done something I knew too well I hadn’t.

This passive accomplishment became a bit of a private delight and guilty secret. I liked being other than others assumed.

Until this year, today, when I unceremoniously purchased a paperback copy.

I cannot explain the timing of my choice other than it suddenly felt urgent and necessary. Personal.

A penance for my sin.