I sometimes picture myself being born in another time; I may sit for long periods of time letting my mind wander. My situation does not change much, I may be holding the bridle of a mule plowing fresh ground during planting time; if I find a piece of paper floating in the warm southern breeze, I chase it down. Maybe I can use it to write on, a bit of poetry or a short story about my life as a sharecropper’s daughter.
There is always proof somewhere in the scene that lets me know that I come from poor folk. I wear it like a suit of armor, it does not fail me. Like a pencil falling from my hand, I am brought back to the present, I am much older, much wiser, and mostly happy with where I am in life. I know that I will not see sixteen again, nor even thirty!
In my whole life, I only loved one boy, yes, a boy. A high school boy! That was before my life was turned upside down, he moved on with his life and at sixteen, I stood still. Was it love? I like to think so, of course, girls, women seem to fall into certain unclear slots of not knowing what they want. From farm girl to city girl before I had an adjustment to either. In those days the parents made the decisions, today the teens make their own decisions in most situations.
The mental health issues have not changed, just the teens are growing up much too fast. The schools, nor the parents fail to recognize that they are too far out of their comfort zone. The parents are allowing them to make decisions that are still being pondered by a much older age group; they are children making adult decisions. As parents, we are allowing them to do so, thus comes problems later in life.
When one of the great masters was dying his last words were “Sorrow will last forever”. That could be anyone’s epitaph as the eternal has its own laws.