When I was younger, much younger, than these almost fifty-one years, I thought I could do everything. In fact, I wanted to do everything. I thought that by now my life would have eased into a nice regular rythm. I'd be playing with my grandkids, taking them to the park, and baking cookies.
I once thought that I would stay home and raise my kids while their father worked to bring home the bacon. I'd cook scumptious dinners every evening, sew cute little dresses and read bedtime stories. I guess being born in the fifties, and watching shows like Leave it to Beaver, I Love Lucy, and Father Knows Best gave me that mindset. Heaven knows, I didn't learn it from my parents.
Once, I thought that I could make something of myself and in the long run give my kids a better life than I had growing up. I bought into the notion that by getting a good education, I could be something. So, when my youngest turned one and I turned 36, I began my educational persuit in earnest. It took eight and one-half years to complete a Bachelors degree in eductaion that included two endorsements. I do not have a teaching job but continue to hope that I will one day make something of myself. Perhaps the proverbial they think I am too old to begin a new career. Who knows? I have been searching for a classroom of my own for three years now.
I used to think that marriage (at least mine of 26 years) would last forever. I even told my now ex-husband that I would never divorce him, rather I would kill him first. Some days, I think that killing him would have been much easier. I'd now be living in a cell, far from domestic strife, getting fresh linens and three square meals a day, in relative peace and quiet.
I used to think I was ugly and usleless. I got quiet depressed over all of that until I realized it was a result of the marriage. I used to think that since my ex-husband didn't have any use for me, then no one else would either(I am happy to report that isn't true.)
I used to think that if I raised my kids right, they would turn out okay. But, who am I to say what is okay? My oldest, a girl, is a teacher too. Of course she is much younger than me and she cannot find a classroom either. That makes me think that maybe it isn't my age holding me back. My middle child, also a girl wound up following in my earlier career choice. She's one of those ladies at the hospital that has to have all your vital information, like insurance, while you are writhing in pain in a too hard chair. The jury is still out on the third child, once again, a girl. She has some notion about becoming a hair dresser and thinks she doesn't need and education. (Well, I suppose there is one in every family, huh?)
Finally, for this post anyway, I used to think that my parents would always be there for me. Isn't that what parents are suppose to do? Well, sad to say, they weren't and now for the most part they can't be. My biological mother passed away about 17 years ago from lung cancer. Ironically, my step-mother passed away on October 15th of this year from just the same thing. My father, on the other hand, is still living, though not so well. He relies on a walker and one of those motorized scooters to get around. He can hardly stand up straight and is beginnng to show signs of confusion and forgetfulness. I used to think he was the strongest, most handsome man I ever knew(even more so than Fess Parker) especially when he was dressed up in his naval officer uniform.
I used to think a lot of things. Now I think of more things than ever before. I suppose that is what you do when you reach middle age and haven't yet reached your goals.
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