This week has been stressful. Not stressful as in you can't eat, can't sleep and don't seem to have enough time to get all your work done stress. Neither is it a stress that makes you feel like you are being pulled into a million pieces. In stead, it is a steady course. Writing five final term papers is not as easy as I thought. And while I love researching and writing, and I am happy with most of my Literature Final Assignments, there is something in the adrenaline rush in exams and the relieved feeling in the aftermath.
So today, in between giving my eyes a break from reading article after article that a Nigerian friend sent me (bless Paul's heart) about organ trafficking in West Africa, and finding marked pages in Grace Land by Chris Abani, My mind wondered into something that was not academic. It was difficult not to let it spill out on my paper because the thoughts kept coming up. So now, minutes before I have to dash off to the bus and go home and SLEEP, I am taking myself back to that time...
Five years ago. I am twenty. I am in Sixth form. I hadn't taught yet, not really. I still have what my Favourite Teacher calls "naive hope" about the field I am about to enter in. I know my students are going to love me, I I do not realize that impacting the up and coming generation will be so difficult for me, that I can be summed up as "not very good". I am at Big Brother Friend's house. He is is 25, not as young, not as hopeful. But he is smart. He is helping me with an assignment and I am enjoying his company. He ask more questions then the assignment require, because he wants to truly know that I know what we are working on. I enjoy the challenge. His mother is in and out of the kitchen where we are working.
I understand this woman more than she thinks. She tries to hide the hopeful grin on her face that spells out that joy that a young pretty girl is spending time with Her Son. She does not understand that the dynamics of our friendship are platonic, and in fact, she probably denies that platonic friendships exist. So she baits me:
"So Bets, when you wa married?" At this time in my life, I understand the hope in her voice, and I understand the concern her has, and I am not yet weary of their nagging or distrusting of their intentions. I don't think the question is rude, even though she is digging my adnormal ways of viewing relationshio. At 20, the idea of marriage is still a novelty and not longing in my heart. My lack of weariness has not made me complacent yet. So I tell her-and the rest of the household who suddenly began to ease drop- my hopeful answer. I tell her with a smile: "Before I'm thirty".
My answer is honest. It is how I view life. My answer shows that I have a plan in life: go to school, get a job,travel, find a nice Christian man, have a nice family while I juggle it all. I recently was healed from the bad things that happened to me as a young teenager, and I am convinced that all things, even those dark and scary things, work out for good. My faith was renewed and strong. I basically feel that since evil could not kill me, it can make me strong when it comes against me.
So now I am 25. Big Brother Friend is thirty. And he is getting married! Of course it is not to me, and no you do not have to read with sarcastic eyes that I am happy for him. I love his betrothed like a sister and I think she is an amazing woman. Even though I did not know her before, I am proud she is my friend.
This up and coming marriage is some how a relief for me. I feel like now, my little sister role is over, and I can wipe my hands on that wedding day, and really begin. Begin what? you might ask.... and I ask myself that same question.;