Tales Of A Bronx Girl

I started writing Tales of a Bronx Girl years ago, never imagining just how much of my heart would end up on those pages. I was nearly finished when life began taking me in directions I never expected. Challenges, illness, and changes in my life eventually caused me to put the book aside, and somewhere along the way, I lost the writing itch and the focus that had once kept me going.

There was another part of me that struggled with whether I should finish it at all — not because I didn't believe in my story, but because I deeply love my mother, and I knew that some of the memories I had written about might be difficult for her to read. For a long time, that love and that hesitation stayed with me.

My life, to me, has been full of so much joy, pain, and opportunity. Yet somehow, it has always felt like a rollercoaster. Just when I reach a climb, there's another drop, and with every drop, I've had to find the strength to begin a new climb. But I've never given up on the ride. I've kept holding on, hoping that someday I could finally let go of the handle — to live, to love, to laugh, to create happy moments, and simply find happiness.

But the story never truly left my heart. Years later, I found my way back to the pages, and with a renewed desire to tell my story honestly and in my own voice, I decided it was time to move forward and finish what I had started.