Finding my Footing.

My feet have followed the same cobblestone paths as Winston Churchill. I have walked barefoot across the grass in Oxford. I have had tea and sandwiches in an actual rose garden in Oxfordshire. I have watched the sun rise and set from a sky rise hotel in Dubai. I have nestled myself among the branches of a Banyan tree in Honolulu and witnessed what felt like infinite hours of dusk in Anchorage. I have purchased cigarettes from a street corner vending machine in Frankfurt and hot green tea from a different machine in Akasaka. I've slept in holding barracks while pregnant in Abu Dhabi. I've fallen asleep in a tour bus watching the Italian countryside fly past me at 60 miles an hour traveling from Aviano to Venice. I have touched down at many other airports and military pit stops along the way from 21 to 26 that I can't list them all without forgetting others.

I was accepted to multiple colleges before I left academia behind. University of Southern California was up there on my list at the number one spot. I wanted to get as far away from "home" as possible without shipping my skin cross country. Gruesome and vivid, yes, but I didn't feel at "home" where I laid my head at night. I stepped out onto the tarmac and called the pressurized cabin at 35,000 feet hurtling 600+ miles per hour my home for the first half of my 20's.

Do I regret not getting a formal college education? No. No, I don't. Do I regret not hustling like my mother in her late 30's to get a formal college education? Again, no. NO I do not. My grandfather worked a full time job straight out of the Navy and went to school full time at Marshall University all while starting a family. My mother left school before she married my father, went back as a "continuing education student" around the time I started middle school while raising my sister and I, working 40+ hours a week and slowly untangling herself from her marriage to my father. I remember multiple trips to Clayton State before it became a university and shoving my nose in the thick books of it's library and finishing my homework alongside it's students while my mother took night classes. I applaud the sacrifice it took the both of them to obtain their degrees and the effects it had on their careers and personal lives. Do I sometimes still think about going and earning a simple business degree to keep in my back pocket? Honestly, not really.

I can barely fathom how stressed my mother was during those years; she had myself (an awkward middle schooler) and my sister who suffered from serious asthma complications. I know that I could not add the stress of school on top of my own children (each with their own unique special need or health issue), my job and being the only stable adult in their life. I can barely have dinner on the table by 7 as it is. I have always been the type to just GO and experience life, and I would much rather experience life than to sit in a classroom setting for months on end. 

Y'all. If you or I died tomorrow, I want my life to be filled with memories of doing and enjoying the three people who called my body home. I want to remember being kind to people and teaching my children to be kind as well. I want to remember the view from that sky rise in Dubai while minaret's haunted the city below with the morning call to prayer. I want to remember the peace as I sat on the banks of the river Windrush beneath willow trees and the scent of roses hung heavy around me. I want to remember the rich scent of my babies scalps as I buried my nose into them while the weight of them sleeping on me anchored into my heart. I want to remember the feeling of my grandmother's arms around my neck as I held her upright and whispered goodbye to her while my stepfather prepared to take her to the hospital. I want to remember these things because without hesitation, I can tell you that I never would have had these precious memories with the children I have and the trials/triumphs I experienced by NOT continuing my education past High School. I don't regret nor would I change any of it.

That being said, I do love hearing about other's experiences with College/Universities so I can live vicariously through them. I think the closest thing I had to the rowdy raunchiness of partying during my college years would be the time I worked a commuter jet into Indianapolis and after an excruciatingly long day, allowed myself to drink with the pilot and copilot knowing we didn't have a show time till after noon the following day. While we never left the hotel lobby, I barely remember going back to my room and changing into an old T-shirt to pass out on my bed. I did sober up, however, when I woke up to relieve myself in the middle of the night only to come to consciousness as the lock clicked and I realized I was NOT in the bathroom but outside of my hotel room. Nothing will sober you up faster than recognizing you have to pee and the only way to get back into your room is to ride the elevator in your t-shirt and undies and explain your plight to the front desk. And yes, after that I started packing pajama pants because NEVER AGAIN would I risk the world knowing what kind of undies I wore.