My mother had me when she was very young - she had just turned twenty three months before my birth in March of 1991. I certainly was not planned: my mother was young and struggling, and my father had problems of his own. My parents were married, but not to each other, and yes, I am quite sure who my father is; my mother was living in Louisiana and her husband lived in Colorado when I was conceived. My mother’s life became much harder when my father died in February of 1994, barely a month before my third birthday. However, she’s done surprisingly well for herself: She moved to Mississippi, began working at a casino in Natchez, and worked her way up to supervisor at a casino in Vicksburg, where she works today.
Until recently, I had never bothered to ask my mother about her affair with my father. One day, I couldn’t stop thinking about my father (I don’t have any memories of him and it sometimes bothers me). I asked her if she had any regrets about anything that happened in those few years. And let me tell you, when you ask such a loaded question, prepared to be surprised at the answer. My mother replied simply, “Not at all.” and I, shocked, said, “Well, you must’ve learned from the things you did back then.” Again, “No.” Before I could even formulate a response to that, my mother continued, “My choices have been made. I can’t change what I did, and it wouldn’t do me any good to dwell on the past. What I can do, however, is make sure you learn from my choices. I want you to have the knowledge that I didn’t have at your age to make more positive changes. I want you to break free of the cycle.” The cycle my mother spoke of is a common one in the South: Like my mother, my grandmother was married, had children, and was divorced before she was twenty-years-old. Both my mother and my grandmother left school to get married, and college was definitely out of the question, especially with young children to raise. While my mother regrets nothing, she knows that this is not the best path in life to take, and so she wants me to learn from her decisions.
When the conversation was over, I sat and thought for a while, and I came to a conclusion: My mother was right, I did not want to be like her at all. Don’t get me wrong, I love and respect my mother more than anyone I know, but I wanted something more than what my mother could give me because of the path she’d chosen. With this in mind I started to evaluate my own choices in life. Through her questionable decisions in life, I not only broke the vicious cycle of growing up too young, but I decided I would not only live for myself, but for my mother as well.
