Nothing about me was “normal”. Even in my family, normal was considered tall and athletic with dark hair. But I was petite with wild blonde curls. I liked to climb trees and be active. I was a dainty tiny little thing with even tinier hands that would love to do art and be creative. When we used to go out to dinner, my mom would pack travel sized art sets of colored pencils that were no bigger than an inch and a half long. And I would sit quietly at the table, keeping to myself, just coloring. Dinner guests would ask what I was drawing and I would sheepishly look up from my work with a little grin and whisper my response.