The End Meets the Beginning June 16, 2009

My room is a mess. Catastrophic, really. It usually is. But this is a different sort. Because I’m leaving. Moving away. Going forward, but always looking back. Maybe that’s wrong–looking back. I’m sure someone wants to turn his nose up, tell me to look to the future; to realize I have a whole world at my feet. And I do, I know that. But I can’t help but glance back. Especially now.

This very friday I am going away to college. Not that far–just an hour, less when my brother is driving. But I’ve been working this week at packing up my room. Which is, I’ve realized, just like packing up my life. How can one ever decide what to bring, what to leave? I don’t want to give anything up. These eighteen years have made everything in my room a part of me. And I want to take it all with me. The coloring books, the legos, the porcelain dolls, old diaries, my baby blanket, my un-scrapbooked photos, the cheaply-created scrapbooks, neon green nailpolish I haven’t used since I was twelve. I want to take it all. But I can’t. Not only is my dorm the size of my bathroom and therefore far beyond unable to hold ALL the life of Shelby Boyer. But I shouldn’t bring it all. This is the end. Morbid, I know. But not really. It’s kind of hopeful. Because an end is only a sad way of saying a beginning. And I don’t think there’s any other way of explaining what I am doing (or why my bedroom looks like a tsunami came and pulled up the carpet). This is a beginning–my beginning. So why am I so desperate to hold to the end?

For a long time now I’ve been holding a one-way ticket to Neverland. I talked about going, I thought about it, I’ve even prayed about it. But I’ve never been able to step away. Because I realized I like growing up. I want to grow up. But I don’t want to let go. Not ever. Peter Pan can have his pirates and his lost boys and mean mermaids. I’m going to stick with that step into the unknown. I’m going to let go of my mommies hand and go to that first day of school without screaming and crying. I’m going to figure out how to cook and clean and get going without my parent’s help. I’m going to dream about tomorrow–boys, parties, degrees, apartments–but, I promise you this, I’m never going to forget that moment where the end meets the beginning. Now, here, with my room a disaster and the memories creating a traffic jam in my brain, I’m going to hold to this. This serendipitous point in time where you have your hand on the door but you can’t help but look back a bit. I look at those journals and scrapbooks and blankets and pictures and I remember. I remember how my dad used to let me climb on his feet and he’d walk me around the kitchen. I remember when mom and I played with baking soda in the kitchen and Travis and I went back to make even bigger explosions. I remember the fights I had with my friends when dances and boys were supposedly more important than each other. I remember plotting out the best surprise party ever and seeing her face when we were all there, waiting. I remember my driving test when I accidentally changed lanes over the white line and I thought the world was over. I remember opening my email and seeing that “You have been accepted” phrase beaming up at me. I remember the night after graduation, lying in bed, holding to my raggedy baby blanket and just crying because, too soon, I would be here, saying goodbye. But then, even as I remember, I put it down. That blanket is staying. Those pictures are still in the box, gathering dust on my closet shelf. I have packed my journals but only so they don’t burn up in a fire I’m scared will take my house by storm as soon as I leave them.

I’m glad for the memories. But I’m even more glad for the chance to make new ones. This is the end. But I’d like to see it as a beginning. I mean, that way my disturbingly dirty room isn’t such a bad thing. When my mom comes in, angry about the mess, I can gently remind her that I have more important things to worry about. Like putting that Neverland ticket through the shredder. There’s no way I’m going now.

Adoration July 16, 2008

I love the feel of oceans waves,
Tickling my sandy toes.
And when the wind tugs from behind,
Tossing my hair and begging me to play.

Or even the bitter salt of forgotten tears
biting upon my heart.
For the memories they pull loose
Make me grateful that they came.

And still I love
The smell of warm bread
And the sweaty aroma of an afternoon spent
toiling over the batch of grandma’s cookies.

For that is what I truly love—
The feelings,
The memories,
The dreams that everything awakens.

The first kiss, dripping with fright.
The warm hug from a caring mother.
The smell of father, laced with love.
The hunt for a dream, beginning and ending in excitement.

For, there is nothing I love more
Than a dream—be it old or new.
It doesn’t matter.
As long as it is, or was, mine.

Good Morning, Sunshine – prt. 11 April 27, 2008

It was February when things started getting weird. That’s right; I had survived an entire month. But then February came and it got harder—in a different way. Jason was supposed to drive me to school but he calls that morning and says he’s sick, that Todd was going to drive. Annie was right there, waiting to go to the bus and seeing if I was coming or not. And Jason was on the other line, asking if I still wanted a ride; this time with Todd.

I didn’t really like Todd. He had been nothing but rude to me—and Jason. But I hated the bus. A lot. So I said yes, to Jason. He laughed and told me fine, but I better be prepared. Like I knew what that meant. I wish I had, I probably wouldn’t have gone.

Annie ran out the door and Cadence said bye and left to work. I still had no idea what she did. But Todd was late. And he honked. That’s when I knew it was going to be a long drive, I just had no idea how awful it would turn out.

“Don’t worry, I steam-cleaned the seat before I came.” was how he greeted me. I gave him a smile and thanked him sarcastically. He just laughed and turned up the music, which happened to be my favorite band. So I asked if he liked it, he didn’t answer. He just looked at me from the corner of his eye and turned it up louder. Surprisingly that made me laugh. It was a comfortable moment. I loved that song and hadn’t heard it since New York and it felt almost like I was home. Except the sky was blue and the air was wet and Todd was by my side and there was no traffic and I wasn’t wearing a uniform. But it was still nice. And I hummed along quietly till the song was over.

“You know what; you actually are kind of surprising.” He said as he turned the music down.

I laughed, starting to feel uncomfortable again. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I just didn’t know a girl like you could have good taste in music.”

I scoffed, “You think you have better taste than me? I’ve helped make bands big. I bet I can list bands you’ve never heard of.”

He stared at me and then told me to try. So I started listing every band—big and underground—that I absolutely loved. And every one of them, he knew. It started to get annoying, especially when he said they weren’t that good or reminded me of others. But, still, I had to give him credit. I never expected him to like a lot of those bands. But he did. And he thought it was so weird, that I knew so much.

“I can’t believe it—here I thought you were so…uncool.”

I looked at him, totally irritated. “Why are you so against me?”

He scowled and stared ahead, pressing harder on the gas and going a bit faster. “Now where would you get an idea like that?” he asked, disdain dripping.
I just rolled my eyes, determined to beat him up. “So I wasn’t in the mood for some annoying, pointless suburbia chat that first day—big deal! You always going to hold that against me? Its like every time you see me with Jason, you freak out—like I’m not good enough for him or something.”

“Yeah—it’s all about you, huh, Brooke? News flash—it’s not.” He shouted, but his voice wasn’t angry, it was more…disgruntled. And it threw me off.

I went quiet and just stared at him for a second. He continued, but more quietly. “Besides, It’s not…you necessarily that bugs me with…Jason. It’s…. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Just get out and see if you can make it a day without breaking m brothers jaw. It should be easy considering he’s not here.”

He pulled sharply into the parking lot and screeched to a halt by a door. But I was angry.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Breaking a jaw?” he asks, being purposely annoying, “Well—”

“No, I mean the other part—what is bugging you if it’s not me? Cuz—trust me—it’s obvious something is.”

“It’s just you guys…together. Its sick and weird—“

I scoffed, my jaw dropping, “What the freak—are you jealous?”

He didn’t say anything, but the air suddenly seemed tight. His face flamed and he started clenching the steering wheel. But he wouldn’t look at me. And I suddenly got this really weird feeling in my stomach. But then I was just exasperated. Especially as the late bell rang. So I got out and slammed the door shut, wishing somehow his hand had been there. No luck. And then I stormed to my classroom which actually turned out to be the wrong period, but I didn’t care enough to be embarrassed. I just wished the hours away, still fuming at the conversation and accusations. Mostly because I had this idea and I was about a hundred percent sure I was right. I thought about every look, every word—or lack there of—and every moment I’d ever spent with or near that kid and I started to think that he liked me. The idea made me want to die. Die in a horrible bathe-in-gasoline-go-crawl-in-a-hole-and-light-a-match kind of way. I felt dirty, physically ill, and uncomfortable at the idea. But there was something else there too, something that made it all the more worse. I felt flustered and anxious, like I never wanted to see him again. Which was weird because, usually when I despise someone, I want to get close enough to strangle the kid. But now I just wanted to run—run and hide. Even the thought of seeing Jason got awkward.

That day didn’t pass quickly enough. Whenever I saw Todd, I looked the other way. I didn’t talk to him at all and I rode the bus home—I didn’t even tell him I didn’t need a ride. But I think he caught on pretty quick.

Annie knew I was being weird, but she didn’t ask anything, which was relieving. I just went in my room, shut the door, and screamed into my pillow. I’d never done that before. But it felt good. Cadence coming in and freaking out, asking what was wrong was a bad side-effect though. I just told her I had a lot of stuff due and it had just gotten stressful. But then she sat down next to me and pet my back. She asked if it was about Jason. I shot up quickly, suddenly venomous.

I told her to get out; that just because we shared the same genes didn’t make her my mother–where had she been for eighteen years? I started yelling things that I hadn’t thought about in a month. I told her that my living in her awful house didn’t mean I wanted her to come in a pretend she knew my life story. We were still strangers and I didn’t ever want her to touch me and pretend to comfort me, a girl she had ignored till she felt obligated to house me. I felt numb as the words fell from my mouth. Her eyes got all wide and stunned and I could see Annie standing in the middle of the hall staring in the same way. But I just scowled, breathless and hot.

Cadence stood slowly and I could see her eyes turning wet, but I honestly didn’t care. And as the door closed, I just fell back on my pillow and started crying again. It was all really weird. Because I could remember being so happy to be here just yesterday, and now I wanted to do nothing but run away.

I was blubbering, a mess of angry tears. I could hear the clanking of plates and I knew Cadence and Annie were having dinner, but I didn’t get up. Instead I called Melanie.

A man answered the phone and I could hear Melanie giggle in the background as she asked who it was. I quickly asked if I could talk to Melanie. The guy laughed and then handed the phone over.

“Melanie?” I asked, trying to clear my throat of the tears.

“Yeah, who’s this?” she said, her voice giggling. I could hear the guy in the background–but he wasn’t talking.

“It’s Brooke–can we talk?”

I heard her sigh, laughing and only half-haring me as the guy was nibbling on her ear. I felt sick–that’s not a cool sound.

“What? Sorry, uh…not exactly the best time.” Another airy laugh. “I’m…in a meeting–with my boss.”

“I wasn’t borne yesterday.” I said, completely angry, “You can tell me you’re too busy getting laid–it’s not your first try at a promotion; I know how it works.”

Suddenly her laughing stopped. I could almost feel her sit up. “What the hell is your problem, Brooke?” But it wasn’t a worried question, it was annoyed.

“Is this one married?” I asked, just as bitterly.

“Oh, grow up Brooke. Life’s not unicorns and rainbows. So sue me for trying to make it somewhere. Not all of us are born to millionaires who forget their daughters names and get away with it by handing them some plastic.”

“Leave my dad out of this.”

“Out of what? You feel threatened?” she suddenly sounded like a nightmare. “You really think your dad loved you? Even if he did, how did you repay him? By crying the day he died? You don’t care! The only reason you cry is because you had to leave your suite behind and go to a place where popularity isn’t based on cash. And now you’re finding it a little harder to get by. The little princess wants daddy to come down and save her. News flash: I’m not your daddy and I’m not gonna save you.”

Suddenly she laughed over the phone again, and that’s when I knew she really didn’t care.

“Melanie, I don’t ever want to talk to you again.” She scoffed. “I loved my dad, and he loved me–so why don’t you get out bed and grow up yourself.”

She didn’t laugh. “You really do think your dad was perfect. Who do you think remembered your birthday’s? Who do you think reminded him of your different events? Who bought the gifts, who wrote the cards? Who constantly had to persuade him to make room in his schedule on saturday mornings? It wasn’t him, honey.” She chuckled viciously, “And you know what, I did it to him and he seemed to like it. But you can bet I wasn’t the only one.” She laughed again, “Like it did him any good; he went and got in a car wreck on his way home one night.”

I just dropped the phone, willing myself not to crush it under my foot. I was suddenly more than angry, I was hurt. I felt cut at and bruised and really, really alone. That’s when the tears started to fall. And they weren’t hot.

Everything seemed to hit me at once–how Melanie had treated me, what she had said about my dad, Cadence’s eyes, Annie’s stare, Todd’s opinion. In the least, the day had sucked. But now it was a prison of pain that I couldn’t find a way out of. I started shaking, my tears turning into sobs. The air seemed tight; I couldn’t breathe. I started screaming, just trying to get air in and out of my lungs. But it was quiet, as if the whole room was suffocating and I couldn’t move. My memories became my enemies–they taunted me. Every memory of my dad, New York, Melanie. All the moments with Jason, Annie, even cadence. It was like the whole world was laughing at me and I couldn’t get away. I started to feel lightheaded and fuzzy. I could feel my fists clench around nothing, my nails digging into my flesh, but I couldn’t loosen them. I faintly heard worried calls from the hall. Then the door was flung open and arms started grabbing me. But I couldn’t relax. I still shook, and I still breathed out screams. Then I was suddenly gone, but that blackness wasn’t peace.

When I woke up, Cadence was screaming above me, telling someone to call 911. I tried to shake my head; I was fine. But Cadence just pinned me to the bed and told me to not move. But I wanted to–I needed to. So I threw her off me and told her to just let me breathe. She seemed to catch on that I was no longer shaking; even my fists were unclenched. That’s when I realized it had only been seconds since I’d feinted. But it had seemed like hours. Annie stood in the door frame, staring at me like I was some sort of monster. I just took a deep breath, staring at the ground and starting to rub my temples.

Cadence cursed under her breath. “You better tell me what the crap that was about. I don’t care if you hate me.”

I looked at her, suddenly embarrassed.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered.

She seemed to catch on that I wasn’t talking about what had just happened. I meant earlier, what I had said to her. I needed some form of stability, someone who could make me breathe again. She was the closest option. She sighed, mumbling about how weird teenagers are. I just fell back on the bed and started talking. I’m sure I made absolutely no sense, but neither of them said a word. They just listened.

I told them about Melanie–how she looked at men, what she did to get what she wanted. I told them about dad and what Melanie had said about him. I admitted that I had no reason not to believe her, there was no proof that my dad had loved me. I even talked about what Cadence had admitted to me, about her marriage to my dad. I talked about how today had sucked–I didn’t say why–and how much both worlds I’d ever lived in sucked.

By the end, their faces had given up expressing emotion. They almost looked stoned. Neither moved and neither spoke. Finally I just fell in Cadence’s lap and sobbed. That seemed to wake them up. Annie was immediately next to me, placing her face by mine and willing me to stop crying. She told me it was all right, that they really did love me–even if no one else had. That seemed to backfire on her, cuz I just cried harder. Cadence whispered to Annie, asking her to leave, which she immediately did.

Cadence sat me up, pulling me off her lap and into her arms. I eventually stifled my sobs and the tears slid silently down. Then she started talking.

“People aren’t perfect. Sometimes people do stupid things. Just look at me–I’ve do stupid stuff all the time. I left you, hurt you, I hurt your father, I sticked with Annie’s father for way to long…I….I’m a mess.” She shook her head against mine but continued, “And sometimes people are just stupid. Like Melanie. Well, I don’t really know her, so I shouldn’t say that but…she seemed stupider than a cow to me.”

I laughed sadly, and I suddenly felt at home.

“But the thing is, life can suck sometimes. We all just have to learn to deal–in different ways. I know being here, for you, isn’t ideal. I know exactly what kind of life you’re coming from. I’ve been there. That world can be…crazy. But I’ll tell you this,” she pulled my face up to look at her, “your father was a good man. And, even if he did do stupid things, wouldn’t it be better to remember him as we knew him?”

Her eyes were sad and a single tear slipped out. But that one tear was as if a dam of broken dreams had been unleashed.

“You loved him, didn’t you–even after you left.”

She stared at me, not answering for a solid moment. Then she just smiled. “I guess so.” She sighed, a sort of sad realization. “It’s hard not to, isn’t it?”

I sat up, wiping my face, “I wouldn’t know. He really wasn’t ever a major part of my life. But it still hurt to lose him.”

“Of course it did. You don’t have to be glued to a person to care enough to cry when they go. And he was your father, he was there. And if what Melanie said was true, he was lucky. To have such a wonderful girl forced upon him.”

I rolled my eyes, “You don’t even know me–wonderful isn’t one of my adjectives.”

She looked at me sadly, “Brooke, I know I haven’t been there for you–at all, really. But I know that when you stepped off that plane, you were mourning for lost comfort and riches. Now you’re mourning for lost emotional connections. That’s a big change for anyone. That’s wonderful. I’ve seen you, in a single month, become someone completely different. Life sucked for you and you’re dealing. You should be proud of that.

“And I know I’m not all a mother should be; I’m not expecting you to love me–I’m fine with you calling me Cadence. But I hope you know, I am trying to be here for you. I want to be more than just your guardian. I want to at least have your trust–I love you and I am so proud that we share the same gene pool.” Then she smiled, and pulled me back in her arms. And I hugged her. I don’t really hug people. Hugs are weird. But not with Cadence, it was…safe.

She laughed, saying that I’d almost given her a heart-attack with all that screaming. I apologized. And she got up, telling me I needed to get some sleep. But, as she opened the door, she turned back to me, her eyes twinkling. “Besides, life can’t be too bad with man candy like Jason.”

I laughed quietly, sitting awkwardly still as the door closed and I was left alone. I kept looking at my phone and finally picked it up. There was a text from Jason. “I missed your face today Stay Beautiful.”

I finally, totally and happily, smiled–no reservations. I didn’t reply or anything though. I was too tired and I wanted to fall asleep with a smile–dreams are better that way. So I slipped under my covers, not even worrying about wrinkling my True Religion or my Nicholai. I guess Cadence was right, I really had changed.

Dreamin’ Away February 21, 2008

Aren’t dreams crazy? Not the aspirations ones, the night-time ones. I mean, think about it. Your brain just sits there, making up all these random plots to entertain you at night! I remember once, a night before a test, i dreamed i was stuck in a locker dressed as a clown just trying to get to my classroom. Where does the mind come up with theses things? Is it bored, sitting there at night? So it just decided to take random memories, hopes, fears, thoughts and mix it all into some frightening tequila to dunk on me? Whatever way it works, it’s crazy. Sometimes frightening. Yet, those psycho dreams gave me the chance to get out their and taste my dreams; the aspiration ones. Now that i think of it, my dreams gave me…my dreams! Both ways! Wierd, huh? I guess I owe it all to those dreams; the ones that make you wake up confused and wondering where you are. And the ones that make you scream or laugh in the middle of the night. But, yeah, i do…i owe it all to my brain for getting me out of middleofnowhere, Nebraska. Who woulda thought?

See, it all started the last day of senior year. I can remember every little thing about that day leading up to that night and that dream–oh, that dream–is forever seared to my brain with no hopes of removal. But i’m down with that. My room was orange. It had been my brother’s before he left to some auto-part junk yard; to ‘get his fortune’ was what he said. I think mom kicked him out. She never talked about it. Anyway, it was that horrible prison-suit orange. With brown comforters. It’s a miracle i ever fell asleep in that electrified room. I swear it could have been seen from space. But I’m getting sidetracked.

That night was when mom and dad were screaming again; this was before their divorce. They were fighting about…condiments i think. Yeah, she wanted yellow mustard, he wanted brown. I was down with ketchup, but they didn’t seen to notice me. But they were fighting so the wrinkles were past stressing point. Once my parents went on to what sort of pickles to buy, i was done. I fell onto bed exhausted. And it’s those nights; the ones where you could poke your eyes out for being so tired, that you can never seem to fall asleep. No joke. So it was tossing and turning, throwing my heads in the deflated pillow and trying to count the curses flowing from the other room. I couldn’t keep up. It was probably about two that i finally fell asleep that it finally happened. Duh.

It was simple really, i was standing on the school lawn and everyone was in the school staring at me. Which was uncomfortable. So i finally yelled, “What do you want?” and then, in unison, they all closed the windows and turned their backs to me. It made me so mad, i remember it. I was wanting to scream but it wouldn’t come out. Then, right there on the flag pole, i exploded. Not literally, no worries. I just started kicking and screaming and cursing about everything. Homework, people, parents, school, Nebraska, politics–everything. Even scrambled egss. And it just went on and on until one single window opened and this kid, who i didn’t even recognized, yelled “Shut Up!”. Then another window opened and one of my teachers (that psycho Mrs. Grennery) yelled “Grow Up!”. And every time a window closed another window opened and something else was yelled, becoming more and more personal that were yelled by strangers. Finally i couldn’t take it. With hot tears running down my face i just turned around.

That’s when i woke up. And that’s when life changed. I was late. My alarm hadn’t gone off and my mom and dad were too tired and mad to notice. So, it wasn’t until like lunch time that i got to school. I couldn’t find any friends to sit with, not that i had much. But still. The last day was not enjoyable. Most seniors were gone; the rest were sophomores who finally felt worthy to look at me. Boys were screaming about summer plans and girls were scouting out the best summer boyfriend. I think there were two fights by the end of the day. And there I was, recognizing faces from my dreams! I wanted to go slap them and argue about what they’d said. but of course, it wasn’t them really who said it. It was me. I realized that, that day, sitting in the bathroom as the bell rang. I just stared at my self–my short, freckled self–and wondered why my mind would make up such horrors for me. And that is when my life-changing epiphany came to pass. In a school bathroom. After every other student had gone home. That is when i realized i was destined to be invisible. Now, don’t worry. This isn’t some self-pity story where i burst into tears and flush my head down the toilet. It’s just, i finally got it. My life, just like my brother, was gonna dissapear into history and be meaningless. Unless i changed.

Let me tell you something about me. I’m a quiet girl. And not just shy, i just am careful; careful about trusting. I think it has something to do with my parents; how, when i was three, they got me a book. Well, no, it was more like a magazine. About finances. I think it haunted me. Especially since it was like the last birthday present i ever got. I don’t even think my parents really knew when my birthday was. But, yeah. That magazine showed me how some people–especially the close ones–just don’t care. That we’re a pretentious people who only care about ourselves. In high school you see it everywhere. the cliks, the labels, the rumors and gossip. Nobody cares. So i decided to not care…about not caring.

I think i knew one person i’d call a best friend. Her name was Sheila and she was put into foster care when her parents died in a car accident. I don’t know where she went, but she went away. that was in elementary. But i knew people. I’d go to parties, i laughed at school. They just weren’t…friends. Sheila was in my dream. I can still remember. She was the little girl i knew, poking her head through that window and yelling at me. But, she was different than the rest–she smiled. And i don’t remember what she said, but i can remember that smile. And it played a part; it changed my life.

But, in that bathroom i changed. I forgot the old me. It was a whole new ball-game. I was finally free. Looking there, letting those words from my dream rush over me, i smiled. i truly smiled for the first time. Then i picked up my bags and went home. Mom was burning dinner again; i could smell it as i stood at the front door. I knew dad wasn’t home yet, he didn’t get home till late. Maybe that’s why i did it. If dad had been home i could have never pulled it off. But it was just mom and she was in a crabby mood. So i went in, walked to my room, packed my bags and then walked to the kitchen.

“Mom,” i said, not daring to look at her, “A couple friends and I are going to…California for the week.”

“What about school?” was all she said, completly concentrated on scraping the burnt rubble off the pan.

“I graduated mom. Today was the last day.”

“Oh, oh yeah. Now that you say that…sorry.” but she wasn’t sorry. “Don’t you have some sorta ceremony to go to? To get your diploma?”

I was getting slightly angry. Or maybe sad. You know, i find it funny. Mom and dad had never been in any of my dreams. Thinking about it, i wonder why. But that doesn’t matter. I made up some lie about how it had been right after school and now we were celebrating. The sad thing is she bought it. And i was out the door. I don’t think it even registered to her that there was no car out front, no laughing girls. Just me and a duffel bag full of clothes.

I brought my phone, but she never called. Two weeks in, it died and i was somewhere in Kansas. Those weeks on the road were exciting. Creepy, cold and sufficiently frightening; but cool. I met more people going then i ever had staying. Some people i wish i’d never met, but i did and i lived. My dreams got me through. I never had an exact repeat, but phrases from that dream would pop in. In a sad way, they motivated me.

I’m sure i looked like some harley-riding man by the time i got to Texas but, man, that smile on my face was huge. This must be confusing. Looking back at what i’ve written, it seems like i turned more invisible, more useless. But my life seemed to glow with opportunity and seeing that Lone Star waving over cities and over plains was amazing. You have to understand, coming from a town with a population of 1,000 and being thirty miles from the closest walmart can choke a girl. Especially one with dreams. So getting out and seeing different kinds of people; all different kinds, let me tell ya, was amazing.

I got a job in Austin as a secretary to some small Lawyer. It took me a while to secure it; he said i didn’t have the ‘credentials’ but i had the ‘character’. I didn’t argue. While he was in court or doing something out of the office, i’d sit his desk, pull out a pen and start writing. I’d sit there and imagine being on some talk show; dancing with Ellen, crying with Oprah and being celebrated for some work of fiction. Those were daydreams. And they were great. But my dreams were better. They tasted more real. Even when they included me dressed as a clown.

That year as a secretary was great, but I was restless. So i said goodbye and moved on to be a radio talk show host, then i became a private assistant for some unpronounceable designer. By now i was hot, not physically, but i was up top. There were things i did in that city that i’d never heard of up in Nebraska. Not bad, just different. I bought a pair of designer jeans and got some heels to match. They cost $500. It didn’t take me long to learn that was nothing. I made friends, got boyfriends, broke and made relationships, met people–famous people, i even made people–i actually had a life. But then i met Greg. He was a homeless sixteen year old. No family, no schooling. I took him in. Some people called me crazy, but, after life on the road, i knew crazy and crazy wasn’t Greg. I taught him and helped him get a job. No handouts–i made him earn his keep. And, when he turned eighteen, he had my old job–with the lawyer. before parting ways he told me something, something i can still remember being shouted in my dream. It was weird hearing it in the flesh after dreaming it constantly. But he just looked at me and said, “You’re worth somethin’”. I guess i was.

That’s when i really lived my dream. I quit my job, bought a house slightly out of the city and started the Lost Boarder’s. I turned my house–it was massive–into a safe haven for those cold, wandering teens. At first there was a counselor on hand, but after hundreds of late-night visit’s to my room i took a step of faith and started relying on my own knowledge and thoughts to teach those kids. I helped them get settled, realize their dreams and aspirations; i showed them they were worth something and they could reach what they wanted to. I had over 100 boarders that first year. It was a lot of mouths to feed and board and help, and they were required to work for it. Hours were spent at a neighboring farm helping harvest and plant. I developed a plan to get some experience in them; ‘Internship’ was what it was called. They could go and find someone willing to teach them their trade and give them a sort of job. At first it was just that radio and lawyer, but soon many people started taking them in. Girls got department stores, boys could get into the police department. It was just a few hours a week, but it showed those kids a whole new world. And people started to notice. Donations flowed in, interviews were given, adoptions even sprang up.

I was living my dream, you know. There is nothing more amazing then that. I could step out onto my lawn, next to a giant flagpole, and have random teens pop out and say things to me. This time it was nicer. And this time i recognized every one. And when i looked in the mirror i always smiled. It’s a good life; a recognizable life. I’m not invisible. I made something of myself and I’m proud of what it’s become. Because, even when i go, these people will remain–maybe this place will even remain. Either way, i did leave a legacy. A legacy and a dream. Which is more than i could have ever asked for.

Oh, and you know what? I’m reserved for Oprah next month. I’m sure a few tears will fall, if only because i get to share it. i get to share my dream.