Little House on the Praia - Summers in Portugal the intro.

 I used to want to be a little writer. Mostly because of this place and all the lonely weeks I spent journaling and reading books, all while waiting for my friends or family to arrive. I always got there early.

Coming from Newark, where we played in abandoned houses surrounded by weeds. Where, if you lived next to a factory with a driveway you were all set. Some grapevines in the yard, and a city park to play in on the weekends. Every now and then we went to this mall that had water falls inside of it, I would be in Awe. I had to stop at every single one and leave a penny. All of this was nothing compared to Portugal.

There were forests, a river and a huge ocean.. all 10 minutes away in every direction. I could hold live fish in my hand and had to be careful not to step on cow poop at the beach. I went there every year straight, from 1988 to 1997. 12-21 years old. Those are some developmental years! People treated me different there and it helped me so much with my self confidence.

So back to me wanting to be a writer... it never happened because I had nothing to write about, but so much has happened since 1997.