I believe every one of us possesses a fundamental right to tell our own story.

Not only did I avoid speaking of Salinger; I resisted thinking about him. I did not reread his letters to me. The experience had been too painful.

You lay your hand against his skin and just rib his back. Blow into his ear. Press that baby up against your own skin and walk outside with him, where the night air will sourround him, and moonlight fall on his face. Whistle, maybe. Dance. Hum. Pray. (how to calm a crying baby)

It's a great thing when a man knows how to dance, she said. When a man can dance, the world is his oyster." Adele, Henry's Mother

I continued to protect him with my silence.

The portrait of my parents is a complicated one, but lovingly drawn.

If I told you about all the stories I don't tell, I would be violating the very boundaries I set for myself.