Zaji Cox's book
Plums for Months: Memories of a wonder-filled, neurodivergent childhood
charmed me entirely. . . I've even bought a copy of my very own. She's got a way of looking at the world differently, and has developed her voice and found a lovely way to share her melodies and harmonies with words - below is her observation after observing an interaction of her mother and sister facing a neighbor (white) who had accused the sister (mixed race) of breaking and stealing from his property. . .in pondering about who she and her sister are. . .
What We Are
IN THE TWO OF us we are many: Irish, Danish, French, German, Native American, Black, white, and more that we don’t know, buried in history like our Native ancestor who was kidnapped from her tribe. So when my sister tells me about all the people who squint at her and ask what is she, or my classmate draws a picture of me and her in class and I am colored the darkest, chocolate brown, I want to hold out my arm, my sister’s arm, and peel back every layer to show the white, the Black, the Native American, the German, the French, the Danish, the Irish, the many.
Cox, Zaji. Plums for Months: Memories of a wonder-filled, neurodivergent childhood (p. 36). Forest Avenue Press. Kindle Edition.
Her piece called "The Scholastic Book Fair" swept me right back to my school days, when the scholastic book fair order sheets landed on our desks. I wanted every one, was told (if we were lucky that month) that I must make my choice. . .
That these essays are set in my home world, the Pacific Northwest, specifically the country where I live also pulls at my heartstrings - her descriptions dive deep for me, filled with a tenor that I hear, living on these same roads, moved by these same winds, breathing the same air.
yes. I bought my own copy of this graceful book. It makes me smile and think differently.
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