The Finish Line

I’ve thought a lot about school today. My buddy, Primal has been posting about his return to the world of academia. Go, big guy!

When I got my degree I didn’t let the door hit my ass on the way out. I was done. Occasionally I tinker with the idea of getting my masters, but time and finances always seem to talk me out of it. Besides, I just don’t know if my heart would be in it.

I graduated the first time out of sheer spite.

After my Dad died, Prissy remarried. Quickly. My step-dad was a mean drunk and loved to play mind games, but I know in my heart of hearts he loved me and there is no doubt he did the best he knew how.

But, oh how he disliked Big Daddy.

We married young-after my first year in college when I was the ripe old age of 18. SD just knew that I would end up pregnant and dropping out of school. I'd be penniless, divorced, and dependant on public aid to care for me and my seven children. He voiced this opinion loud and clear by refusing to give me away and refusing to speak to me for the next 3 years. The day I graduated from college.

So, yeah, I spited him alright. The old fart got exactly what he wanted and it only took him three years of estrangement to get it. Because, of course I went flying into his arms in a flood of tears and "I love you"s.

This should be a made-for-television movie about now shouldn’t it? Maybe we could get Valerie Bertinelli to play me and Meredith Baxter could play Prissy!

So that was my great rebellion as a youth. I got married and finished college.

Granted, my college experience was classes, work, and coming home. I never attended a football game or a party. I left with a few memories (one fella lamented the fact I was married-that’s a dandy one to hang on to) but no friends.

Who had the time?

But don’t cry for me, Argentina.

I chose my path. I continue down it proudly.

I get asked:
“Sugar, don’t you regret getting married so young?”
“Do you regret not having the college experience?”
“Didn’t you ever sow any wild oats?”

No, maybe, and my day is coming. My wild oats are still out there waiting to be sown.

I don’t look back with any regrets or wistfulness. How can I? Big Daddy and I have forged a beautiful life. We are raising two fabulous young men, and we escape to the lake a couple of times a year.

I look back at the road I’ve taken and I see where veering off the path either led to smelling the roses or getting pricked by the thorns.

Not a very original analogy, but appropriate.

So, I don’t look back and think “I wish I had…”

I think ahead with, “I can’t wait until…”

And when until appears in a bend up the road, I’ll break into a run.