A few weeks ago, the world was introduced to a new threat that quickly spread throughout. It was in the form of a virus, COVID-19, or the commonly referred term, coronavirus. I remember watching the reports on tv, and not really giving it much thought at the time. Afterall, it wasn’t the first time that new viruses were discovered. It would cause concern as doctors and the public struggled to study them, and then there would be a way to stop it from spreading. However, in this case, that wasn’t the situation. As everyone tried to understand what was going on, it was being spread from city to city, country to country.
In all of our lives, we are faced with obstacles that seem to come when we least expect it. I’ve been through a lot during my life, from the time I was a young child. For the most part, I feel as though I have made it through pretty well. That is, I’m still functioning with what I would like to still think of as an optimistic attitude. However, inside I feel what I don’t share with others, and that is the scars that have collected through it all. Many times I hold up a smile to mask the tears behind it. I write to let my feelings out a bit, and now, I share those feelings with you.
I remember sitting in my eleventh grade Social Studies class when my teacher passed out our FAFSA applications. We were also given booklets explaining the importance of getting a college education. According to this booklet, we were all but guaranteed a job immediately following college graduation. And each degree would over double our annual income. With this knowledge, one thing was certain...in order to get anywhere in life, you had to have that degree, and the greater the degree, the better.
During the 90s, I was a shy little girl living with her grandparents in Mississippi. Because they grew up in the 50s and 60s, I was introduced to the music from their generation at an early age. While other girls in my class was listening to the boy bands that were coming out at that time. I was gifted tapes of Elvis and Buddy Holly. I daydreamed of living during that time which seemed so much more care-free with poodle skirts, sock hops, and milkshakes.
It was late at night as she cut the lights off that Julianne stood in the doorway looking back towards the room that quietly made such an impact on her life. As she stood there, memories began to flood her mind. Loved one that she had lost over the years, and those that were to come into her life in the future. She thought of everything that she had been through, and everything that was to come. This wasn't the first time that she quietly reflected in the darkness of night. Afterall, it had been a long road during her nineteen years of existence, but this night was different. It was time for her to move from this house that she was born and raised in. She was about to go out into the world. In a way though, this house helped prepare her for life ́s challenges. And then, there was the room.
I started writing when I was about ten years old. My grandma bought me a diary for my birthday. I loved writing down what would happen to me throughout my day. Soon, I began to expand to writing songs, poetry, even skits and scripts. In my writing, I found it possible to write everything that was in my head, things that I didn’t feel comfortable speaking out loud.