The Chosen Ones
What is Happiness?
Has anyone actually experienced it?
What does it feel like?
Is it only reserved for the chosen ones?
Listening to Al B Sure in the car with your hands blowing through the wind in the backseat on a hot day….
Being outside in the neighborhood doing cheers with your friends until the streetlights come on…
Sitting on the green box eating Dates from the tree while watching the cars go by on the street….
Playing video games all night until you woke up with the controller in your hand the next morning….
Waking up to your dad spinning records for the neighborhood while the neighbors are bouncing to the beat while cutting the grass…
Going next door to your Grandma house to watch Moonwalker for the millionth time…
Anytime Michael Jackson was going to be on TV… it was always an event and the blank VHS was always ready…
All happy memories, all from childhood. Childhood was challenging as a little black girl but it was carefree. Whimsical and fun. It was simple and timeless. My earliest memories come from the wooden floor model TV at my maternal Grandmas house. It didn’t work so it was a stand for a small black and white TV. That TV was quickly replaced with a color TV from Curtis Mathes. For a few years the TV only had maybe 4 channels on it. All the channels went off the air after the news. The National Anthem would play and the flag would show. This is how you knew you were up too late. Then the cable man came and hooked up the wires and there was cable. We sat in awe at all the new channels. They didn’t all go off at night. There was more to watch than PTL, I Love Lucy reruns, and Bonanza during the day. Gosh, Westerns were always on TV. Bonanza might’ve been the only tolerable one.
I digress, Happiness was childhood. I do not have one bad memory besides not knowing as much as the other kids at school about things of the World and not having the cool clothes and shoes. I was clueless about everything until someone said something about it at school. I was never one of the chosen ones but I was so happy honestly, I don’t remember even giving a shit.
I had ALL of my family. Everyone was alive and well. Full of life and love.
We all lived within 3 miles of each other on both sides of my family.
As you grow up, the people that always surrounded you with love die off and disappear. They die off one by one and all you have are the memories that you can see when you close your eyes and think of them. Sometimes you can smell them if you think hard enough. You never got to grieve because life is go, go, go… but you think of them at least once a day and close your eyes and imagine yourself back in their presence. Taking in their lessons.
You actually care about what happens on the news because that shit affects your life. The chosen ones determine what life will be for all of us. Your blinders get turned off about how people really are. It’s just not as fun anymore. The only cool thing about adulting is the little people that you have to protect and care for. This is cool but it brings about pressure. You can no longer be carefree. You have lives you are responsible for. You have to step to the plate. Chosen or not. As you step to the plate, your happiness dissolves and you no longer remember what it feels like and what it was. You put yourself last. You worry, and you worry, and you worry. You juggle many things simultaneously and you are still behind. You’re not good enough and always make mistakes. You never seem to overcome the mistakes. The world is against you, you don’t have real friends. You question everyone. Your trust is burnt and done. You spiral and only focus on providing. Everything is a chore. You want to scream at anyone who throws a monkey wrench in what you’re doing to make it happen. Because you’re barely making it happen.
You scream. You close your eyes to sleep and in your dreams you’re still trying to figure out ways to put out fires. Your dreams are about how to make the impossible happen. You wake up and then there’s another disappointment coming through whether through email or a phone call. It’s a never ending cycle. It goes on and on and on and on…
Happiness and adulthood may not be synonymous. It may be but it is obviously only available for a select few. The chosen ones.
