As I was reading what soon became my favorite short story, “Tandy” by Sherwood Anderson, I came across a line that would incapsulate my entire life up until that point.
The story is simple, short, and to the point, as all good stories are.
A stranger comes to the town of Winesburg, Ohio and begins speaking to a little girl. The little girl’s father, Tom Hard, is the town atheist and rails against the belief in God and against the little girl herself. The stranger, well versed in the art of drinking, stumbles upon the girl and insists that the girl be the ideal woman; a woman named Tandy, who is more than man or woman, who dares to be loved, and who is courageous and strong. But before he launches into that diatribe on the perfect woman, Tandy, he says this:
“Drink is not the only thing to which I am addicted,” he said. “There is something else. I am a lover and have not found my thing to love. That is a big point if you know enough to realize what I mean. It makes my destruction inevitable, you see. There are few who understand that.” – Sherwood Anderson “Winesburg, Ohio”
And that is my story. I am a lover who has not found her thing to love.
And this is how I will curb my hunger for what I cannot face: that if this is left unattended, it will be my demise.