My Family In Nathaniel Hawthorne's 'The Scarlet Letter'
I, Pearl, was born an outcast of this prejudice world. Today marks my twentieth birthday. My mother, Hester, my father, Dimmesdale, and the town’s people of the Massachusetts Bay Colony know I am the living Scarlet Letter. Since the day I was born my mother has had to wear that dreadful symbol. The Scarlet Letter represented my mother as an adulterer. The older I grow, the more I realize that my mother has always done so much for me. Her love was patient and forgiving in times when I pushed her to her limits as a child. I love my mother, Hester, with all my heart. I remember as a child, being fascinated with the letter A on her bosom. When I was young I was confused about the situation between my parents. I lashed out in anger towards my mother my throwing prickly burrs at her bosom. In doing so, I added to her already thriving pain and guilt. As I grew up and moved away, my mother decided to continue to live in her tiny cottage in Massachusetts. I sent her gifts from England so she can live in luxury as well. I loved her, and she knew she would always be welcome to come live with me in England at any point throughout her life.
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I was lonely and lived in isolation with my mother. Children shunned me, and if they came hear me I threw rocks at them. People often called me names such as, “imp” or “elf-child.” Living in solitude never bothered me. I often found pleasure in games and using my extravagant imagination. Early in my childhood, I was a very intelligent, imaginative, and determined child. Like most, I had a temper too. At the age of seven I learned that Dimmesdale is my father. I had always had my suspicions about him. I am not mad at my mother for keeping his identity concealed, and I am no longer mad at my father for not coming forth sooner about the sins he committed with my mother. They were protecting me as well as
I was lonely and lived in isolation with my mother. Children shunned me, and if they came hear me I threw rocks at them. People often called me names such as, “imp” or “elf-child.” Living in solitude never bothered me. I often found pleasure in games and using my extravagant imagination. Early in my childhood, I was a very intelligent, imaginative, and determined child. Like most, I had a temper too. At the age of seven I learned that Dimmesdale is my father. I had always had my suspicions about him. I am not mad at my mother for keeping his identity concealed, and I am no longer mad at my father for not coming forth sooner about the sins he committed with my mother. They were protecting me as well as