“Don’t die with your dream in you.”
-My Mom, Bessie Bush
My chord for Sigma Tau Delta will be arriving soon. I have to order my stole for my father’s fraternity will be ordered next week. I have my cap, gown, with tassel on said cap, hanging up in my hall closet.
I checked my grades after midterm and I have 1 A and 2 B’s–which may turn into 3 A’s. Right now? Your girl is coasting!
I am 6 weeks out from my degree, going back to work full time, and from taking the GRE for grad school.
This week, I am taking the time to count up the wins. My wins. I’m forgiving myself for what I did, should have done, and what I knew I should have done before now.
Y’all know the story.
I’ve been writing since 8. Wanted to be an English professor at 16. Wanted to go to NYU. Mom said she wouldn’t pay. My Dad died at 17. In abusive relationship for 3 years. At 22, I couldn’t write. Met a guy that started my heart–and gift–again.
Got married to a dude I didn’t really love like I should have. He got mad at me reading for fun, for finishing my education. For keeping myself up. Had not 1 but 2 kids by a dude that–and I promise this is true–had to cheat to get his GED!
My heart wanted to write. But I had to feed my kids. I ran after being a nurse from 18 to 33.
I journaled to keep my sanity.
I took English classes to offset the rigor of the science I took.
And now? I’m back where I am supposed to be. Should have been. Need to be. Needed to be.
I am a woman of faith, so I believe in destiny. I believe in the plan of God for my life, and have seen it work in these last 11 weeks. I have seen my destiny wide, and sweet an.