When I was younger I dreamed of being fancy. I dreamed of being from an old southern
family with class and money. I
dreamed of growing up to have a husband, three kids, a dog, a perfect house on
the perfect street and absolutely no problems. In fact, when I was young and dreaming I never even knew
that problems existed. That is how
idealistic my childhood was. A guy
I dated once told me that my family was too normal and too close to the
American dream. I honestly had no
idea what it meant to have troubles. And this was at age 24.
I don’t think I knew anyone who didn’t go to college until I
was 22. That is one year after I
finished my undergraduate work. I
went to a private school my entire life.
I truly did not realize there was an option of not going to college. I lived in a bubble safely protected
from the real world.
I’m the kind of girl that strangers stop on the street to
let her know she is beautiful. I
don’t say this to say I am any better than anyone else. It is just something that happens to
me. Maybe this happens to everyone.
It’s my hair. Auburn curls;
the red from my namesake (my grandmother Mary) and the curls from my
mother. The only other things I
got from my mother are my hips and my lack of coordination.
I never did anything wrong my entire life. My family moved three hours south to
Meridian, Mississippi when I was in the tenth grade. My father, a headmaster, had a new job at a new school. It was at a school outside of the
delta. It was a school outside of
segregation…at least as far as I was concerned. There was one African American student at my new
school. I remember going to a
football game with friends and riding to the game with him, the black student.
I wouldn’t sit in the back seat of the car with him because I thought it was
wrong. A fifteen year old in
modern day thought it was wrong to sit in the back seat of a car with an
African American male. Yes. I am
ashamed.
I lost friends in college because I was what the infamous
they call a tee-totaler. I did not
drink before I turned twenty-one.
It was illegal. And heaven
forbid I do something illegal or wrong or against my parents’ wishes.
My first kiss came at the age of twenty-two. I was a second semester graduate
student and it was Valentine’s day of 2008. I was instantly in love. I thought that God had saved me from heartache for one
special man. I was wrong.
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