When I was a little girl I frequented doctors offices. Either for my sister, who had a cleft lip, or for my nephew, who had luekemia. I sat and watched them go through procedures with a strange sense of fascination and I learned very quickly that it was the nurses that did all of the work. They were the ones that wiped away the tears, the ones that held the hands of the patients, the ones that brought the medicine, and the ones that brought the smiles. I decided that's what i wanted to be when I grew up.
Then I went to grade school. I had to write a story using the word "out" as many times as possible. I wrote about Johnny the Outlaw who lived way out in the Australian Outback. He hid his loot in the outhouse out on his farm. I used the word out 67 times. The teacher had me read the story out loud to the class. She praised me and told me how talented I was. I decided that I was going to be a writer.
In middle school Lorena Bobbit literally threw her husband's manhood out the window. The court case was all over the news. Defense attorneys and prosecuting attorneys talked endlessly into the news cameras. I agreed that what Lorena did was totally acceptable given the circumstances, but she was obviously guilty. She admitted that she was guilty. I didn't understand how a lawyer could willingly represent a guilty client. I went into high school with my heart set on Harvard Law. I was going to be a DA.
In 9th grade I had to write another story. This time it was a nonfiction assignment where I had to go out and observe my surroundings. I rode the bus to the mall, watched people, rode the bus home from the mall, and turned in a 2 page handwritten paper on the experience. My teacher asked me to make another copy so that she could have it printed in a school publication. Screw that lawyer crap.. I was meant to be a writer!
My senior year I met a young man that changed my life forever. He was unspeakably beautiful. His eyes looked right into my soul. I ran my fingers through his curly black hair and breathed in the scent of his skin. I never imagined a love so deep could exist. Nursing, lawyering, writing... none of that mattered. None of it was what I wanted but I didn't realize that until I held that 6lb 14oz squirming bundle of pure perfection. I was meant to be a mom.
Two years later, the decision to be a mom was only solidified with the birth of my beautiful daughter. The feeling that I had when I held her in my arms with my son in my lap can only be described as completeness. I knew right then that nothing would ever be as satisfying as being their mom. I still believe that. If I die the moment after I publish this blog, I will die knowing that I did not one, but two great things with my life.
When John went to Korea, I was left in North Carolina with two small children, only a couple of friends, and absolutely no family. I was still a stay at home mom.. but Jay was in pre-K and Kaitlyn was in pre school. I turned to my computer for solace. Again, I took to writing. I journaled, I wrote short stories, I wrote naughty stories, I wrote poetry. The short stories and journals got deleted. The naughty stories went to John. The poetry reminds me of a very dark time in my life. Those feelings of wanting to be a writer tugged at the back of my brain. I decided to wait until my kids were in school full time to go back to school. I wanted to be realistic though. I was a mom, a caregiver, I would be a nurse like originally planned.
Nursing didn't work out. I decided that it involved way too much math and science for my taste. I changed my major to English. I would teach in a high school and foster young minds. That didn't work out either. I decided I don't like teenagers enough to spend all day with them. Somehow, writing always came back to haunt me. I switched my major to journalism and in May I will hold a pretty piece of paper that says I have graduated with a Liberal Arts degree with a minor in Journalism.
It has taken me almost 10 years to get my 2 year degree. I went back and forth.. nursing, writing, law, writing, english, writing... it has admittedly been a long road. But, I have no regrets. Every twist and turn that I have taken has brought me to a deeper understanding of self. One way or another, writing has ALWAYS come back to me. Writing is as much a part of me as the hand that i use to write with. It comes as naturally as breathing. The thoughts and ideas that flow out through my fingertips jump around through my brain so much that they are hard wired into who i am. I tried to go different routes that interested me, but I have learned that they were merely detours that led me back to the main road. I know, without a doubt, that I will be a writer... when I do finally grow up.
