Jennifer Beth Guerin
She Is With Me
My earliest memories are of searching for my favorite cereal in the grocery aisle, of swinging high enough for my feet to touch the clouds, or retrieving my older siblings from school. Those memories are woven with feelings of praise and scorn. I was often curious as to why my red, unruly curls warranted so much attention; and, at the same time, I was preoccupied with mending my appearance to ward off my mother’s frustration. An internal fabric stretched taut through years of approach/pressure/reproach became my filter for seeing: signifying a continuum of felt experience.