Going it Alone...

Life seems to move at a staggering pace. I feel as if I am standing on a street, watching as people pass me by. They walk onward, moving forward with their lives together.

I feel alone sometimes. I feel as if there isn't a single person who needs me in their life. Perhaps this is a condition in which I set myself up for. I used to crave attention and I did whatever was necessary to have someone look my way. And even though I have long ago dealt with those demons who are my past, I feel as if a small part of me is now icy-- immune to ever being needed, being desired. Perhaps I fought that needy side of myself to an extent where I am no longer needed at all.

Nine months ago I moved away from everything I knew. I turned my world upside down because I had no choice. I guess a part of me half expected for everything to freeze in place, awaiting my return. It hasn't. Life has continued without me. No one there needs me.

Mother Teresa said, "Even the rich are hungry for love, for being cared for, for being wanted, for having someone to call their own."

If the rich are hungry, then I am starving. I crave for someone to think about me when their day gets a little too tough. I wish for someone to need to speak to me to calm their fears, their nerves, or even to get to sleep. More than anything, I want to be a necessary element in someone's life. But I am not.

Instead, I stand watching as people walk by. Some are friends, some are lovers, but all are people who rely on each other to make it through the day. For now, I am an island. Only myself.

Maybe, just maybe, I'll be more.

Taking Stock of my Hand...

The recent situation in Haiti has got me thinking about how lucky I am.

I guess life is kind of like a card game. Sometimes, it doesn't matter how good of a player you are, because in truth, the game can be determined simply by the cards you are dealt.

Think about it. If you are born into a wealthy family and a great life, it is likely that you will hit the jackpot. After all, it is hard to lose with pocket aces. If you are born into an average family and have a good life, it is a possibility that you could walk away with some winnings. After all, a having pair of tens beats having nothing. But if you happen to be born into a impoverished nation and have a hard life, the only thing you are likely to do, is to lose. After all, low cards offsuit usually end in a muck.

Looking back over it, my hand wasn't too bad. I was born into a family of hard workers. Growing up, we weren't rich but there was always enough for me to have a bike to ride with friends. I may not have gotten an ivy league education, but I did go to an amazing school with amazing people. I may not have had life handed to me on a silver platter, but I have learned how to fend for myself, how to count on others when necessary and how to make smart decisions while still having fun.

So, while my hand may not have been top-notch, it was workable. And for days now I see images of children walking streets littered with the dead. I hear of little girls begging their mothers not to let them die. I watch as people cry out for food, for water, for relief. What kind of a hand is that? How are these people expected to even play the game...much less have a shot at winning? How can people born into poverty and sickness be expected to survive?

Is that really what this life boils down to? Are our lives ultimately determined by the life we happen to be born into? Is there really any difference between us and them?

Is the only difference, where we were born, who we were born to and the resources available to us? And if so, how is that fair? I know that the Haitian people have hopes, dreams, families, friends and lives that deserve to be lived fully. And yet, hundreds of thousands were tragically cut short in a mere moment. And yet, I still breathe.

If the difference really comes down to the original hand we are dealt, then I guess I should say a prayer of thanksgiving tonight-- a prayer for the life I have been afforded, a prayer for the lives that have been taken, and a prayer that I will always understand the precarious line that divides us.

After all, when the river turns, the game could change for everyone.

Growing Up at Last....

Lately, I've started to feel older. And not just in the sense that a new year brings yet another birthday.

I feel as if for the first time in my life, I am starting to really mature. It isn't as if I have never matured in the past. When I graduated high school, I matured enough to take care of myself and go to college in a distant town. In college, I matured past drinking way too much and acting out to get attention. But now, I feel as if something much bigger is happening.

I pay a car note, car insurance, and cell phone and credit card bills. But it really isn't about the money. I've begun to make some life altering decisions about law school and loans. But it really isn't about the career decisions either. I am currently filling out paperwork to obtain my very own life insurance policy. But this really isn't about the grown up things I'm forced into doing.

I think it is about all the little things I am starting to think about all on my own.

I guess I have begun to seriously contemplate my future-- beyond law school. Sometimes I find myself wondering when I'll be able to start saving for my children's education and my husband and my retirement. Since I don't have a husband or children, I at first found these thoughts to be a little misplaced.

I used to swear I would never be ready to be grown--and true, I still don't feel ready to take on a serious boyfriend, much less a husband and kids. But for the first time, I can see that readiness on a distant horizon.

I used to fret over getting older. I used to declare I could grow old but no one could make me grow up. True. Still, a part of me is looking forward to growing up. I don't plan on rushing into anything. I still want to enjoy each step in the process. But I know that one day, when my hair is gray, I'll be grateful that I finally grew up.