Talitha was my great-grandmother. She was born in 1878 and died in 1960, and lived in Missouri and Oklahoma. She married a 60 year old man at age 17, and had 8 children with him. Mysteriously, one day she just left the family, without a trace for 30 years, returning at the end of her life (to make amends?). Why did she leave? Why did she return? Who was this woman? What did she long for?
Known as a "half-breed" in her time because of her Cherokee parentage, I wonder what she was able to make of her own identity. Did she have words for it? Did she love the Ozark mountains where she was born the way I love the mountains where I live? Was she driven mad by the shrill of children, longing for silence and stillness?
Upon learning about her story recently through some family history research, she has come to occupy my soul. Thus, I am beginning a novel about her life. As I humbly place one foot in front of the other on this ambitious journey, I will come to know her, at least as a fictionalized character. I will also come to know my grandmother, father, and all those other hillbilly/outlaw/alcoholics that are my family. The spirits of these cowboys and indians who drank, fought, and stole will visit, whispering secrets in my ear about the one true thing we all long for - knowledge of self.
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