The Geisha Who Ran Away Series Book Tour & Giveaway

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It would not be truthful to say I do not remember my mother. My family. Of course I do. It is just
that their memory is dull somehow. Perhaps the best way I can describe it is to say that they seem
to me as if I am looking at them through a silken screen. They are there. I can see their features,
but they are slightly blurred somehow. Not quite real.
Of course, many people would say that I am confused. That the life I led with my family was real,
and each day since I left them has been the dream. But they do not know. They cannot be expected
to understand.
I think my mother was a pretty woman. She always seemed so to me, at any rate. And my father
never took a concubine, so he must also have found her pleasing. Of course, we were poor, so it
may be that he simply could not afford a concubine rather than a matter of choice. But I don’t
recollect Mother ever complaining that he spent money they didn’t have on courtesans—or even
common whores—so perhaps he was a contented man, after all.
Not that I understood about concubines or courtesans in those days. I was a mere child, the only
daughter in a family of five brothers. It may have been simple neglect. After all, what was the point
of trying to teach a mere girl anything about life, or anything else for that matter? But I was soon to
learn differently.
In fact, I began to learn the day that my new life began.

Author: Angie

Mom, blogger, social media influencer, healthcare worker View all posts by Angie