There are a pivotal moments in our lives that make a tremendous difference in the trajectory of our fate. I have always believed that I have either missed these moments or that I have never truly led a life that needed them.
Who am I? Oh, if that isn’t the million dollar question. I’m your average woman, living an extremely average life, with an extremely average family, meeting extremely average expectations. I have known this for quite some time and I have never been bothered by it.
There are people who wake up in the morning fueled with ambition and motivation to change the world or in the very least, change their world, but I have never understood that point of view. The stamina it takes to go leaps and bounds above the mundane limits of life is quite simply, excessive.
I work as a teacher. I say work instead of saying I am a teacher because I don’t truly care about anything in my professional life. If a student does the work, they get the grade. If they struggle, they get a report to sign up for remedial classes. If they are having issues at home, it stays at home. If they fall down, they get up or stay down, crying. I work as a teacher, that is all.
My shift begins at 7:00 and I give 100% of my best work, then at 3:30 I leave and work is done, for me. I took this job for one reason, and one reason only. I can walk to work. No, really, that’s my only reason. No money wasted on a car although they offer free parking; no money to be allocated in my budget for gas, and I actually enjoy walking. It gets frosty in the winter but that’s what coats are for. I graduated with a degree in social studies and as my father put it, a four year vacation. I care very little about what he thinks. He was not a part of my life until his father found out about me and made him support me, financially.
I still remember the day I came downstairs for breakfast and saw my step-father sitting on the back deck alone and wondered what happened to our plan of having pancakes as we open my university packets. We were supposed to see which accepted me only to find my mother in a frazzled manner standing in the family room with him, my father, sitting on the sofa waiting for me. He told me how my biological grandfather was too old fashioned to accept that divorce cuts a relationship.
To that old fashioned man, I was still a blood relative and worthy of his money. I, of course, rejected his offer to pay for my schooling as I truly detested the foul creature who gave me half of my genetic heritage. He tried to speak but I rudely left the room and joined my step-father outside. He looked sad and sullen as I crouched beside him on the stairs of the rough wooden deck. I learned that the greatest shame of his life was not being able to afford sending me to college. He begged me not to be foolish. He begged me not to take on a lifetime of debt. He begged me to take the money because he couldn’t offer it.
I said nothing but eventually took the offer. I went to the most expensive college I could get into. I had no idea what I was about to study so I took the school that had the best name and the highest price tag.
I lost my parents during my sophomore year when I was about to declare my major. After their funeral, I just couldn’t find the will to do anything anymore, so I chose social studies when my father made a snarky comment about that option. I chose a major that does not line up with my way of life to annoy a man who often forgets I exist. I guess I was the fool, maybe I was. You haven’t met the man.
Nonetheless, I took a job as a teacher because I enjoy the walk and the pay was half way decent, for a teacher’s assistant that is. After a short while, I became the lead teacher of a higher grade. A promotion is what they call it, if dealing with a heard of ten-year-olds is ever a promotion.
After I had my son, I took the rest of school year off. I know, it’s hard to imagine me as a mother, as a loving mother but allow me to say, I am full of surprises. My son is not my job, he is not my father. I treasure the things I care about, and thus, I treat them like things that are cherished.
But, I digress, this is not an autobiography. This is a tale of my very first pivotal moment, or at least, the one I noticed.
It begins on a day after I dropped off Joey at day care, at the school I work at. I’m not back yet, but I was going to start soon so why not get my favorite guy ready for the transition. I leave the school starting my walk back home. I pass by a coffee shop, a posh and overpriced coffee shop that has the most peculiar aroma. I order my usual to-go drink. I actually enjoy living in such a lavish and expensive neighborhood, one of the few joys I have in life.
I was born rich, married wealthy and don’t want it any other way.
I take a sip, the very last sip of my drink then stop surprised to hear tires screeching right behind me. An odd sound for this part of town. A white van swirls in the street across the bank beside me, and deep down I’m excited for the thrill of witnessing a bank robbery. Expensive neighborhoods are safe, but incredibly boring.