Some of my first memories are of my parents taking me to see Star Wars. I was in awe, and still am. I recall my father had a heart attack as he took me out on Halloween. I was nine, and he made my costume- PacMan. I remember traveling to Fla. to see the construction of Epcot Center. I remember going to visit my grandmother on Christmas. She loved ribbon candy. I remember my siblings working on a strawberry farm, coming home with stained jeans. I remember a candy shop called Marwedal's where kids got all kinds of candy. I remember my parents above ground pool and out first dog Pepper. I remember my dad getting up early for work, cooking himself breakfast and leaving in a station wagon in the dark. I remember believing in Santa and going to Mass at church and not being able to sleep, and in the morning we had so many presents. I remember emulating my older brother because he was smart and had so many friends. I remember my grandmother dying. I remember cutting in my late teens.
Here I am, 30-something and I have nothing to show for my life. I have heard all kinds of advice from philosophers and fools.Friends say I should be proud of graduating and getting published.
Yet, its not enough.
Yet, its not enough.