Where Everything Starts

Dear Diary,

I guess I should start at the beginning. I was born in Mormon country on April 21st 1981. My mom tells me it was freezing outside and that her doctor was out of town when she went in to labor but I was coming none the less. I would have been born in the car if I was facing the wrong direction coming out feet first. Guess I really haven't changed on my approach of life. I was a healthy baby. A chunky monkey one might say. We moved to South Dakota when I was about 1 year old and stayed there until I was 3 I think. I can remember some of my days in the frozen hell of S.D. I remember making snow cream and looking out the window waiting for my sister Sara to round the corner at any moment from school. I also remember bouncing around on the couch while my mom was bringing in groceries from outside and for some reason feeling the need to jump and slam the door at which point I heard my mom scream because her fingers were caught in the act. That was the first time I hurt her and I felt physically sick knowing I had... Funny how I still think of that sometimes and regret ever doing that. Moving right along... When I was 3 we moved to Basfield, Mississippi, where my dad was a pastor at a local church. I have more memories there. I had an invisible friend named Jason and a dog named Pete whom I loved. Our family friend we called Doc was my hero and I practically lived at his house watching Indiana Jones and eating Raisin Brand cereal. I was big in to coffee and climbed up on a counter top one morning at about 4am and made a pot myself at which point my mom decided to cut me off. I was normal and doing normal things... you know the youngest of the family with 2 older sisters who lived to embarass me by dressing me up in their old dresses and parading around the neighborhood showing me off and feeding me mud pies. Life was good!!! There was the creepy neighbor who everyone thought was a serial killer and I dared not walk by his house alone. My grandparents lived in Pontotoc, Mississippi, which was only a couple of hours away so it was good. I would go visit them sometimes. I loved going to Pontotoc to see mamaw and papaw and of course Grandma and my grandpa whom we called Pupu. My parents always warned me about going to see a certain aunt and to watch out for a certain cousin. I was 4 though... they tell me now that they told my grandma not to let me stay at this cousins house... but she let me go a couple of times. Then came the day my life would be changed forever......