The filmmakers want photographs of me and images of our family from my childhood years. For the last several weeks I've been collecting photos from aunts, uncles, and my parents. Looking at them brings back a great flood of memories that I really don't want in my head.
In real life I'm a terrible swimmer. If I'm in a lap pool swimming next to the wall and wearing a nose guard and flippers there's a 10% chance that I'll make it all the way across. But in my soul I'm an expert swimmer. I swim away from all the reasons I ever needed to find Booker Wright. I swim hard against the current, away from the raging waterfall. I'm so good at this. I always, always make it safely back to land.
I have a sense of foreboding about this second Greenwood trip. I thought the emotions from the first trip were behind me. I thought I'd come to a new perspective about this work and that I was ready for the next chapter. But I don't feel any of those things. Instead of swimming away from waterfall, it feels as though I'm swimming right into it.
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