When I get to the end of my life I expect to go out as a very old woman with a smile on her face and a slight chuckle that no one but a few friends will understand. You see, I have always been the good girl. The one who did what everyone expected. But there were those times that I just couldn’t or really didn’t want to, and those are the reason for the chuckle.
I am the youngest of three daughters born to parents that wanted only the best for and from their children. We were asked to do our best in school which I did, being placed in advanced classes and earning honors. We were expected to graduate not only from high school but college as well. I did that as well.
I did everything my parents expected from the time I was born. I was the dutiful daughter. I saw my sisters dating, having lots of friends and going out. They threw parties when our parents were out of town. I locked myself in my room and read. I wanted to take ballet. My parents thought gymnastics would be better suited for me, so of course, I took gymnastics.
But little cracks came through my nice polite studious quiet, Girl Scout joining life. I got involved with theater in high school. I made friends so my parents liked that part. But these people said what they thought and were so expressive. I grew but not totally. I was envious of what they did while remaining the shy quiet one.
Prom Night was a blast. I went with a group of friends. We had fun at the dance then went out afterwards. I know they had fun that night because they told me what I missed after I headed home at 10:30pm. I had a curfew and never broke it.
I got a boyfriend in college. He was wonderful and not at all who my parents would have chosen for me. I broke up with him when my parents told me to. He never understood. I couldn’t explain it. It broke both our hearts.
I acted out a little in college but nothing like some other kids did. I got my degree then took my graduation trip. My parents gave me a week in Hawaii. This was the first time I traveled alone. My very first solo vacation. I had a very nice time. I saw a lot of beautiful sites, including the Samoan man I met the very last day. He will be one of those smiles at the end of my life. Then I went home and back to being the good daughter.
I helped when my dad had heart surgery. I did whatever was asked of me. He recovered and I got to begin my career in film. This meant I moved to Los Angeles. I would be living alone, in a city where I knew no one, in a completely different state. I was on my on for the first time. I had to call every Sunday to update them but it was up to me as to what to tell and my life was mine during the week.
For three years I did things I wanted. I got jobs they approved of. I never got arrested. I stayed safe (although my definition and theirs may have been different). I hung out in places my parents would not have approved of. I drove through neighborhoods my mom would have locked the doors and asked my dad to drive faster through. I made friends from all walks of life. These were some of the best years of my life. Then I moved home.
I got a job they chose for me and made it my own. I moved into an apartment in a neighborhood they liked. I dated rarely but men they would approve of. I even married a man they liked.
I have no regrets about anything I did and I realize all the choices I made were truly my own. I sometimes wonder what I missed out on. But I’m not that very old woman yet. There is still time to add more reasons to smile. I may find a few more experiences that add enough chuckles for a full on laugh that will leave everyone wondering – until they find my diaries.
About the Creator
Writing can be therapy, insanity or both. Here is my mind, my dreams, my fears, my thoughts, my life laid bare to share with you. Enjoy the journey into what is at once my blog, diary and world, and don't forget to tip your guide.