What I Want To Be When I Grow Up

Okay, I'm in a great mood this morning because I had a dream that I was in my ideal relationship and it felt just as good as I thought it would feel. And this light I see at the end of the tunnel has me recognizing the beauty of living. Living long enough to fulfill some dreams I had for myself. Dreams that some how got dropped off on the sidelines of life. As if I put them in the storage area of my attic and totally forgot about them. But you know how it is, that stuff in the attic we never really forget about. When you least expect it a memory flows into plain view and triggers a thought about something you put up in the attic. Something that is near and dear to your heart but for some reason you can't muster up the courage or strength to give it the attention it needs. I'm old enough to not have needs or so I say or so I think. The light breaks through the inevitability of today's morning clouds and I can't help but feel nostalgic about some old wants, some old needs and some very, very old dreams.

I love Boondocks, I love the satirical nature of Huey who speaks his mind or more so speaks what's on the minds of most sensible, consciously thinking black folk. The picture is reminiscent of the expectations of black people, as if we don't aspire to be more. I remember as a child, more like I was teenager and I wanted a pair of Gloria Vanderbilt jeans, they were all the rage back then but my single parent, single income mother could not and would not buy them for me. Also, at the same time I was venturing into developing new friendships with people that lived life on the edge. We smoked cigarettes in the school bathroom, junior high school bathroom to be more specific and we looted local stores. Looting was their primary activity and something I wasn't really familiar with nor was it something I actually wanted to do but I wanted to be a part of this group of vagabonds, I wanted the rush of being a bad girl because for the bulk of my life I had been a good girl-scout-going and good church-going girl who didn't really have any interest in boys or at least not yet. The goodyness of my behavior meant that I would receive ocassional taunts and people would look at me as if being good was some type of disease. In my desire to cure myself of this ailment, I began to cultivate a friendship with the "bad" kids which was easy because back then kids weren't so picky about who they hung out with, as long as you were with the program, you were allowed to be a part of the crowd.

My first act of looting, okay let's call a spade a spade, my first act of theft went extremely awful. I couldn't really think of anything that I wanted except these jeans but in my heart of hearts, I knew I could live without them. They were like so many of the other things that I wanted, things I would list on pieces of paper after looking through the latest Sears, JCPenney and Spiegel's catalog. I would make these list knowing full well that I would never get 99% of the stuff but it was the list making that was enjoyable. But membership in my new gang of friends required either booze stolen from a parent's stash. This couldn't happen because my mother was a non-drinking high holy roller sanctified filled with the precious holy ghost and that with fire she had a mind to go on with the lord Pentecostal God fearing and God loving woman. Or you could bring cigarettes and it didn't matter where they came from. I delivered newspapers after school and even at the ripe age of 13, I understood enough about money to know that cigarettes were expensive which meant I shared my cigarettes on an as needed basis, I wasn't interested in dispensing cigarettes like water, I love my money too much. Or you could loot. Now most kids stole things for other kids in the group, I on the other hand was too selfish for that. If I were to steal something and get caught, it better be for something I wanted, thus the brilliant idea for me to steal some jeans from T.J. Maxx.

The short on the long is this, I got caught and I had to stay in this interrogation room for hours because I refused to tell them my name. I knew that the punishment that the system would dole out on me was less severe than the punishment with which I would receive from my mother. I was far more afraid of her than any jail cell, that is until I arrived in the jail cell which freaked me out and I yelled at the top of my lungs my name, address, social security number, girl scout troop leader and of course my mother's name and work phone number. I also remember what the officer said to me that day. He said he hoped he wouldn't see me again but he paused, he looked me dead in the eyes and he said but chances are I would see him again but the next time he would gladly haul me off to my new permanent home because people like me never learn their lessons, people like me will never amount to anything and this is just who I am.

My aunt came to visit me shortly after I came home from all of this and jokingly called me a "thief." As if it was my new name or as if it was my plight in life or as if it was what I was destined to do for the rest of my life. Between the officer and my aunt, the thought of growing up a criminal made me sick to my stomach, it raged in me something so fierce I vowed to never steal again. It unearthed the small but important dreams that I had for myself. Dreams that entailed a life outside of the criminal justice system. Now I'd be remiss to say that I did land in jail again but under different circumstances. I stole my children and because I was directly violating the custody order, I was put into jail over night. This is a long story one full of contradictory details but before and after I have defied the aspirations placed on me by that officer and by my aunt. I realize that I was lucky and I recognize that some aren't so lucky like my brother and I realize more than anything that I can have as many dreams as I want about my life.

Growing up is not the goal, growing into understanding the self is more the direction one wants with their life. Growing new is when you change careers, create new aspirations for yourself and the manifestation of those visions one has is the greatest gift we can give ourselves. I had a vision of wearing Gloria Vanderbilt jeans and the vision did finally come true, after months of tolling and months of saving money from my paper route but when I arrived at the destination it wasn't as joyful as I thought. This lack of umph when I arrive at goals that I accomplished for the sake of others has caused me to realize that if I'm going to work on attaining something maybe it should be what I want.

So today I'm tapping into the attic of my mind and soul, this time I will pluck from the cob webs, the dust and in the sliver of light still present, I will resurrect what I truly want for myself. I will finally grow up, grow in and grow newly into the thing that radiates passion throughout my being. And what I know now is that until I honor my own desired destiny, I will never know what it means to grow up. But today I put on my sash (the kind you wear in girl scouts), it is full of badges from life but now I work towards the badge I've always wanted. The ultimate badge of life, the one thing that I've always wanted to do from the moment I could think of myself as something.

I am perfect and I am whole and I am complete.