Finding My Story

Forty years ago as a graduating high school student, I recall our teacher asking our plans for college not in any way to guide or advise but only to fill up a form required from them by education department. Hoping to impress her also with pride of my good class standing despite my absences I responded architecture, I don’t know why. Probably it was tongue twistingly impressive I overheard somewhere that I retained it in my head.

With our financial situation during that time I don’t know what dream means, the only dream I know is nightmare when the dining table is empty.  A few months before school ends I remember a teacher calling my attention due to my frequent absences.  I don’t know if I told her the embarrassing truth that at times I didn’t have fare money. But because my absences happened only during the last part of the school year I was certain of my better than average grades to compensate those absences.

When I work as a nanny, I tested the five year old kid I took care by asking what she wants to be when she grows up. She didn’t know, was her reply. After much later she went asking her mom the same question. I heard the moms’ answer was “we’ll think about it when you grow up”.

Except for my teacher no one asked me that question. For personal stimulation and challenge I would formulate my own responses superficially  but  an in-depth reflection however is instantly dismissed because dreams doesn’t put food on the table. My parents weren’t as lucky as some of their professional brothers and sisters going only  as far as vocational studies such that their dreams for us was to be teachers and employees just like their professional brothers and sisters.

I grew up with dreams lent me by my parents, go to school, get a job, have a family.  My future was very clear in front of me. Courtesy of my family and the people around me.

And now I realize I don’t have my own story. Whatever I am was what my parents and their parents envisioned for me. I am fulfilling their dreams. It’s time for me to think of my own dreams before it’s too late.

Someone or something you can’t communicate with through writing (a baby, a pet, an object) can understand every single word you write today, for one day only. What do you tell them?<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/literate-today/”>Literate for a Day</a>

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