Diary of a Hopeful Starving Student

This is a place for hope.

V Peracchio

V Peracchio
Location
Little Rock, Arkansas, U.S.A.
Birthday
August 03
Title
Writer
Company
I am delightful company!
Bio
Once upon a time this writer was a reporter/photographer and columnist for a large weekly newspaper in New York City, worked at the Center for Publishing at N.Y.U., worked at Kirkus for one whirlwind semester and eventually was an editor at Scholastic. After two very eventful years on cable television in New York City, this writer was voted off the island. Today this writer is a student and soon-to-be published author (all fingers and toes are crossed) living in reduced circumstances. She is ever hopeful and even though her stomach may rumble from time to time, she is usually somewhat reasonably well fed. Most importantly this writer is a recovering or former New Yorker, (recovering seems more apt), who is quite happily transplanted elsewhere. She blooms where she is planted. ************************ You can contact me at diaryofahopefulstarvingstudent@ gmail.com

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Salon.com
NOVEMBER 9, 2011 10:55AM

They Just Don't Trust What They Can't Explain

Rate: 1 Flag

Hope doesn't listen to her mother. Or any of them. What do they know. They'll see in time.

Hope leaves the hospital and goes directly to her ballet lesson. Then art class. Then kick boxing. Then Krav Maga. Just her usual after-school routine.

Except that high school is not high on the list of anyone else's priorities these days. More often than not Hope is at the hospital. Since there are only two weeks left. Until Thanksgiving.

And the day after.

The day Truth has been waiting for. And the day Grace expects will be the day. That Hope's mother will pass.

And Hope feels it too. Knows they are right. As they often are.

Hope arrives at home. After running uptown. The Upper East Side.

Unlocks the door to her home. Puts her Rising Tide purse down on the table in the foyer. Walks up two flights to her bedroom.

Turns on every light on the third floor. Then the second. Then returns to the first floor. Goes to the kitchen. And gets to work. Cooking and cleaning.

Whatever mess her father has left behind. After the housekeeper has left.

Hope walks out to the garden with her dinner on a tray. And has dinner under the stars. Looking upward. Watching the stars shining. And winking at one another.

And Hope smiles.

The rest of the evening is spent packing. And getting ready to leave. Trunks removed from the basement earlier in the day and left waiting in Hope's room.

Hope is good to go.

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