White Oleander

WHITE OLEANDER

BY: JANET FITCH

Dear Astrid,

Your story opened my eyes to a world I did not know existed. You live in a world where the word home comes without emotional comfort, and I admire your way of comforting yourself. Your strength exceeds anything your mom would ever imagine, her goal was to make you strong like her, and in the end you prevail as the stronger one. As your story grows I see the reality of life, I become conscious of the fight in life, of the true meaning of loneliness, and the true strength it takes to rise above the obstacle of self pity. When you were young, your life appeared as simple as mine is now, but then you were thrown a curve ball, when you were separated from your mom, you never gave up on yourself. Before I read your story I took for granted the privilege of having a place to call home, I was blind to the bereft reality of the world, you showed me the world though your eyes and I saw the real world for the first time.

The part of your story that I found intriguing was how you would change your physical appearance every time you entered a new home. When you were with Starr, you lost your youthful look and became a Barbie doll. The more houses you went too, the more drastic the changes became. But you still stayed your self at the core, which the suitcase at the end illustrates. You also did not let your mother’s absence stop you from letting yourself love. When you lived with Claire Richards, you became close and you allowed her