most parents want their children to graduate college and get a good job and raise a family in a nice home, but when i was growing up, my dad wanted me to be a nun. i used to tell him that if God called me that i would gladly say yes, but God never did. and i was glad, because what i wanted most in the world was to be a mother. it wasn’t even that i played House so much–i think i played School more often–it was that i could actually visualize myself living in a house with my husband and kids. god, i wanted that.
and i still do–just not now.
lately, though, i’ve been feeling pressure from family to speed things up. like today, we were at my cousin’s house, surrounded by young couples and grandkids. all eyes were on the children as they waddled around the living room barefoot and in their swimsuits, fresh out of the pool. you could see the look in my parents’ eyes when they saw other grandparents get called “lola” and “lola” and scoop up the child. they wished it were them.
my mom sighed, “i’m not a grandma yet,” and i felt the eyes slowly turning to me, and all i could do was look straight ahead. then i said, with a half-hearted chuckle, “sorry, mom. we’ve got a long way to go. you’ll just have to wait.”
i could have left it at that, but i added that it was their fault for teaching us to make the most out of life, to travel and pursue careers and meet people and experience new things, and that is what we’ve been busy doing.
it sounded good for a moment, until they asked my mom, “well how old were you when you got married?”
and silently, i think everyone realized that i am 25 but luckily nobody said a word.
later, my cousin asked me how my boyfriend was, and i just looked at her puzzled, and then i realized who she meant.
“ohhh,” i said, and shot her a look that said that was a year ago and simply left it at that.
“he’s history?” she asked.