I'm not writing to enter; for that reason, I was going to forgo writing at all in this thread.. However, yesterday I looked at an oft-ignored corner of my room where there hangs a long, purple piece of paper in the shape of a feather. On it is my name and the words, "I'm thankful for my room." It was one of many feathers bearing messages of those things for which me and my first grade classmates were thankful, stuck together to form the tail of a huge, paper turkey that hung on the wall in my elementary school.
It was then that I started contemplating where all of those classmates of mine are. I started flipping through my yearbooks. Tall Andy, who played basketball because he was a giant even then...last I heard, he was between schools after his first college experience went bust when someone robbed his apartment. Andy T., my best friend and fellow Sonic enthusiast...he came from a broken home and was really sensitive to everything as a little kid. Jess, the Helga Pataki to my Arnold, if you will...moved away one year and her name only resurfaced at my college just as I left it. Amanda, whose parents separated right before her father was overtaken by illness and our fifth grade teacher was completely insensitive to her about it. J-Mac, brilliant beyond comparison...went to Brown University to study physics, thought it was too hard, and chose to study philosophy. Chris, who aspired to be a teacher despite having a terrible father who didn't care about him at all; I think he gave up on his teaching dream and does real estate work in Massachusetts now. A-Dawg, the girl who came from a family of alcoholics and pledged never to be like them...she couldn't keep her promise to herself even as she left for Texas. Nicole, the sweet girl who always fell for the most abusive cur...I last saw her working as a diner waitress. Cait battled with her parents' separation throughout high school and whatever consequences befell having an intelligent younger brother who was also a ladies' man.
I'm thankful that, notwithstanding growing up in a household that has seen horrid things, my family has enabled me to do what I want to do. I'm thankful that I've never given up on my dreams. I'm thankful that I've retained not only a great mind but also a great heart, that I could never bring myself to be the sort of hateful person I've seen others become. I'm thankful that I'm not another statistic, one of the teenagers hauled into my judge's courtroom with shackles around his wrists and ankles or perhaps another Fantine drifting aimlessly wherever life would take me. I'm thankful for they who told me I could do it, placing their faith in me, and they who told me I couldn't do it, motivating me to prove them wrong.
In short, I'm thankful to be lucky - lucky enough not only to feel that I have made something of myself despite the obstacles of life, but lucky enough to tell this story to all of you.
