So I grew up with this girl (well, several really, and we’ve all seemed to go our own ways) but this is about one in particular, so pay attention. Okay. Ready? Here we go.
So I grew up with this girl. On the first day of kindergarten I apparently walked up to her with a swift pace and asked, “are you Persian?” I know this because she reminded me several times over the years. We haven’t spoken since we graduated from high school. We briefly reconnected immediately after high school, but then lost contact again. It wasn’t because we couldn’t find each other of course. I guess I’m not really sure what happened.
Since I initiated the friendship in kindergarten, our moms became fast friends. Hers was always a quick-tongued savvy little thing, with little patience but in a full-of-love sort of way. Mine, well mine of course, was always a little crazy. Our mom’s became very close throughout the years. Or my mom used her mom the way she does a lot of people because she thinks she can’t figure things out on her own and thus never tries.
Oh crap. I just had a realization. But more on that later.
So when my dad left, my mom really depended on her mom, and when we moved to the public housing apartment in a neighborhood that my mom did not want me going to school in, she sent me to school with my friend, about 15 minutes away in this little community. Naturally, we became even closer. I would play all day with their neighbors, help watch her younger siblings, eat dinner with them and well, practically live there. As my mom’s “condition” (whatever it is/was) got worse, I spent even more consecutive days with my friend and her family.
I was always envious of how much her mom pushed her in school; making sure she did her homework and got good grades. If she needed help, her parents would address it.
I run into her mom every once in a while and we’ve had lunch once. I love her mom. And of course, I facebook stalk her siblings a little. I didn’t have little siblings of my own, but these two really fit that bill. They’re so big now. It’s amazing.
The girl is now an attorney; well paid and living out her dream. Her mom says she works a lot and she gets tired, but she has a great job, good friends and loves her life.
I’m jealous. I can’t even look at her facebook pictures (no we’re not friends, but her profile is public) without getting jealous. A part of me still throws a personal pity party every time I think about our childhood. I’ve heard that once you turn 30, you can no longer blame your parents for your shortcomings. But I just turned 29 and can’t help but be downright pissed at my parents for just flat out not caring enough to make sure I end up happy and successful.