My parents told me, “girl, when you leave the house, you better remember that your name represents more than  yourself.” And I’d roll my eyes every time. “I know.” 

But I didn’t.

At one point in my life, I could tell you what I believed in and sum up the main points expertly because just knew I was right. Because, of course,  I knew everything when I was young.

But I didn’t.

I am covered in scars

And shouldn’t have to explain to a crowd of poetry lovers how I mean that literally and figuratively

But I’m mentioning it anyway just in case anyone might be distracted

Now pay attention because I can’t spell everything out for you



These scars taught me that life isn’t what you expect it to be and love hurts sometimes

They taught me that there are mysteries in the universe, hell, in our own selves that defy answers

	That will just exist for as long as we do

	And when we cease to, they may just go on anyway because

		Maybe we aren’t supposed to know everything

			Maybe we can’t handle that



Instead, we walk and think in packs far too much like the rest of the animal kingdom for my comfort	

	Settling into pecking orders, fighting for food and mates, marking new territories

We are supposedly the superior species

And we listen to punk rock preachers and absorb medicine through watching talk show doctors

We wonder why our children can’t concentrate in school

But we buy them another video game for Christmas anyway



And now, I can’t tell you what I believe exactly or I wouldn’t want to anyway

And I struggle with the difference between living a life to make my family proud or pleasing myself

	And I wonder if I’ll ever get a grasp on how to do the latter 



Really, what would God – the goddess – the gods – say if they came back to earth now

Would we be scolded like spoiled children and sent to bed without plum pudding

Would we be punished for days by taking away the playtime we call war

	And be forced, instead, to work on family chores we’ve forgotten, like farming

Would we have the lecture, telling us how we should have known better

Or worse, the look that says “I’m so disappointed with you” that makes us disgusted with ourselves

	Enough to realize that maybe there’s something more than what we’ve settled for



When my son was five, he wanted to save the children in Cambodia.

He told me, “mama, for just 89 cents a day, less than a cup of coffee, we can save a baby”

I told him he was beautiful. Two days later, he rounded a grocery store aisle

Pulling a little Asian toddler by the hand saying, “how about this one?” 

I tried to explain to his sad little eyes that it doesn’t work that way and we found the kid’s mother

In the car, he asked, “well then, when we send the money, 

how long does it take for them to send us the baby we’re saving?”

His innocence and ignorance astounded me. In an instant, I was jealous of a five year old. 

I wanted to have a heart so big.

I wanted to have a mind so untainted by the world.

At the very least, I wanted so desperately, to remember myself at five.

	I wanted to know if I’d ever been that pure.

	

Now four year olds come with cell phones attached

If you’re baby’s not online by the age of three, you’re behind

At two, you should watched the “Your Baby Can Read” dvd’s

By one, you should have listened to all the Baby Einstein cd’s

At birth, you better have the right colors in the nursery

And in the womb, your baby better be read to lest he’s unaware of the intricacies 

	of Gulliver’s Travels before he’s pushed into the world

And here I sit

In a room with teenage students who can’t even tell time from the clock on the wall

A girl who asked “how do you make this thing work?” when looking at a rotary dial

A boy who had no concept of Roman numerals as being able to represent dates

But they’ll have a baby soon

And I’m guessing no one ever said to them

“When you leave this house, you better realize that the name you carry with you represents more than yourself. You better know that your decisions affect others. You better understand that your life is never really your own.”



So, I’ve said it to my son.

He rolled his eyes, because of course, he knows everything now.



Mama, I get it,

But it took all these years and all these scars

To get this way

To see that perfection isn’t possible and that was never really what you meant

Or what you expected of me

That you wanted me to be strong and to find my voice

And live proud

And so here I am, Daddy,

I’m not a princess and I’m not an angel

But I’m yours and I’m standing on a bedrock that you built

Of truth and personal conviction and I’m saying

To the world in front of me

“I am here

And my name represents more than myself.”

And I am thanking you

For giving me the freedom to be a child and to learn by doing

And to get dirty and to make mistakes

And to have fun

And to live without fear of never being good enough.

I’m so grateful that you couldn’t care less about keeping up with the herd.

01/12/2009

Posted on 01/12/2009
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