Today is my birthday, so, pardon me as I do some reflecting on my 47 years: In 1973, I was seven years old. I lived to ride my bike, play with my friends. I rode a bike down Second Street and occasionally, when I was brave, down the steep hill of Third Street in St Albans. I played kick ball and spot light. My parents were wonderful. I was happy. In 1983, I was seventeen. I was a senior in high school. I worked half a day at the local Savings and Loan. Took my first accounting course (who knew that would lead to where I am today career-wise). Drove to school in a tan Plymouth Volare. Went to church. Tried to be a good girl. Loved my parents. I was happy. In 1993, I was a newlywed. I was twenty-seven. I was so full of plans. I was going to be the best wife and mother. White picket fence. The whole nine yards. I drove a blue Mercury Tracer. My first official car. I was happy. In 2003, I was thirty-seven. I was mom to two beautiful girls—one nine and one almost six. I was at basketball games, football games, cheerleading practice, basketball practice, school plays. My kids were my life, because, my marriage wasn’t working out for me. I had failed at marriage. I wasn’t going to fail at motherhood, too. Now, its 2013. I am forty-seven. My marriage fell apart in 2004. I am divorced. I have a nineteen year old and one who will be sixteen soon. I can tell you life is interesting to say the least. Five decades. I’ve come along way baby. I’ve got a long way to go, too. I lost my momma in 2010. I miss her every day, but, I am happy. I love my kids. I love my job. I love my life. God is good.
Posted on: Tue, 03 Sep 2013 14:00:18 +0000
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