Everytime I visit my grandmother, there is one thing she never fails to do. No, I’m not talking about her giving me bear hugs and telling me she missed me or asking me if I already ate. Which would be really nice. She never fails to ask me when I am going to get married. No granny. I am not getting married, I don’t even have a boyfriend. Why do old people feel the need to ask that question? It’s kind of personal you know? I don’t know about your granny, but mine believes that a woman should be married before turning 25. And if you don’t, you’ll be a left over and no one will ever want you and you will grow old alone. Mind you, she told me this when I was only eight. It did not impact me much but I have to admit, it’s definitely something that stayed somewhere in the back of my head. I kind of grew up anxious about when I am going to get married and if I ever. Kinda sad right? But then I got over it. I’m happy with myself and if no one sees how special I am like the way I see myself, then screw everyone. That just means I can adopt more shelter dogs. I love you granny!
I want to share a story about a turtle and a bunny..
I remember back when I was a little kid, I always visited and slept next to my grandmother. She would tell me bedtime stories every night and my favorite story was about a rabbit and a turtle. I don’t quiet remember all the details of the story, but I do remember the moral story of it and now that I am 21 years old, I reflect back to that story whenever life decides to throw challenges at me.
Anyway, the story was about this bunny and the turtle. They made a bet. Whoever made it the other side of the town first would get some kind of price. I believe they were betting on food. The bunny of course assumed and was very confident about winning, while the turtle had doubts but he was motivated enough because of the price and the little hope he had to win. So they started. The bunny started to hop his way to the other town, a few miles away and the turtle humbly started to walk. few hours later (or minutes), the bunny started to feel tired. He looked back and thought to himself that the slow turtle was probably too far behind to catch up. He decided to take a nap and pictured himself waking up just in time to see the turtle catching up and he would hop away. He would still win, he smiled and closed his eyes, settling down under a shade. Meanwhile, the turtle was also tired but decided to keep going. He knew he was slow, but also knew that the bunny was obnoxious enough and decide to fall asleep. And he was right. few hours passed and finally the little turtle walked passed the bunny while the bunny was lying fast asleep by a tree. The turtle was happy and he kept going despite of how tired he was. Fast forward to a few hours later, the bunny woke up and saw nothing. The turtle was out of sight. He laughed and assumed that the turtle was still walking behind. he started hopping and started to doubt himself. He asked himself if maybe he slept for too long. He was right. As he approach the finish line he saw the turtle enjoying the price.
I wish I could tell you the story in great details but I did my best to give you an idea. This story has played a huge part of my life especially lately. I am 21 years old and expecting my first baby boy. Although I am already married, people still look at 21 year old women like me with pity (sometimes) because they think of the child holding us back from our goals and dreams. Which is not the case. I hope you like my little story!
It’s mid afternoon. Usually when you did not have to go to work, you would convince me to lay in bed almost all day until I tell you that my head is starting to hurt from laying down too much. You loved sleep so much and I loved you just as much. So sometimes I would say yes and watch you sleep. I have always wondered how you did not get headaches from sleeping too much. You were different. More often than not you chose to go to a park and take a walk with me and only me, rather than to hang out with other people. You liked to be alone, you said. I was your home and you were mine. You were my best friend and we just clicked like that.
It’s mid afternoon and our home that used to be full of love and warmth feels so empty and quiet. I hear nothing but the clock ticking and my heart still racing. I wonder where you are. I still cannot bare to absorb the fact that you may be not thinking about me. Even when you have already told me that I was not on your mind anymore. I sit here in front of these papers that you have decided to serve me and my cup of half way full of coffee that already went cold. It has been sitting here since this morning when I decided to sit and attempted to understand how this is all happening and what is going to happened next. So far I have not gotten anywhere yet. I cannot feel my legs and my cheeks are numb. Where are you?
It’s mid afternoon and I want you to come home and tell me that this is all a bad dream, or tell me this is all a mistake and take everything you said to me back and try to make me forget. I need you to come home and wipe my tears away and tell me everything is okay because you are here now. I want to feel safe again but I feel so vulnerable. Infact, I have fallen alone and I am in pieces all over the floor. My chest feels like I am 40 feet deep under water. I am barely breathing.
It’s mid afternoon and I am holding a pen. My hand is sweating. Has been since this morning. Do we really have to do this? Is she that especial that you have decided to trade everything for her?
I am Midnight a four year old Labrador Retriever. My mum often asks me who was a good boy. Clearly, it was me. Let’s just state the obvious that I was the only boy in her life. Being with her was heaven and all I wanted to do was make sure she was protected from everything that is harmful. Like the mailman, the exterminator guy who comes around our house and sprays poisonous water around us. I always sense something when he comes around. He acts nice to me, and to my mum but I know he is up to something and just waiting for me to look away. Our neighbor cat, I do not exactly know her name but she watches us many times a day but it is okay, because I watch her back. She is an emotional terrorist. The ants, there are many of them but I always manage to eat them all before they get anywhere close to my mum. Nevertheless, my point is that I always protect her so that answers her question when she asks who is the good boy. It’s me, and I know it.
But not long ago my mum started wearing a round metal around her finger. It makes me think of my collar but she wears it on her finger instead of her neck….
To be continued