I write because Maya Angelou said I could
Today I woke to the news that Dr. Maya Angelou had passed away. I cried as if I'd just lost a family member. In a way, I have. When I was a little girl, the first book I read by a black woman was I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings . My mother brought that book home and I devoured it. And I wondered if I could write about my life — granted, I didn't experience anything that Maya Angelou had. But she taught me that our stories are important. She opened the door for me to love poetry. She taught me to use my words to express my pain, my happiness, my joy, my sadness. Maya Angelou saved a lot of lives by sharing hers. Then came the day when I actually met her. I wonder if she heard how my knees were rattling as I approached her table at Special Occasions in Winston-Salem that day. Did she know that I was having trouble breathing as I stood in the presence of greatness? In front of a woman who had given me permission to follow my dreams? I'm sure she didn't because onc...