I was a dainty ballerina girl standing by the curtains, waiting to hear the right music that would send me
floating on my tiptoes. I was like the Christ child lifted
out of the straw manger, crying with holy indignity. I was
Cinderella stepping from her pumpkin carriage with
sparkly cartoon music filling the air.
In all of my imaginings, I was filled with a sense that I
would soon become perfect. My mother and father would
adore me. I would be beyond reproach. I would never feel
the need to sulk for anything.
-"Two kinds,"
Amy Tan