The Story of My Life

I am moving out my house in thirty nine days. I am leaving the neighbourhood I grew up in, and the only city I have ever known. In thirty nine days, I am moving six hours away, and I don't know if I'll ever really come back. 

Scared doesn't begin to describe what I'm feeling right now. Lonely. Anxious. Sad. But also excited. Because when I move out of my house, I get to move into a new dorm room, and live with people who aren't related to me for the first time. Because when I leave my neighbourhood, I get to move into a dorm with hundreds of new neighbours. Because when I leave my city I get to meet a new town and a new province. 

Most of all, I am excited because I finally get to begin my life. What exactly does that mean? I mean, given all the possibilities, both good and bad, how will my life turn out? 

I don't know. But I'd like to try to describe it for you. They say you should lay the tracks for the future you want. Well, here I am. 

After four years of university, I greatest thing I hope for is experience. Academic experience, that will show me exactly what I want to do and exactly what I'm meant to be. Social experience, that will give me the true best friend I've always wanted and the boyfriend I've always dreamed of. Life experience, that will make me smarter, wiser, and happier. I'm not going to go seeking regrets, but I'm not going to fear them either. I want to kiss stupid guys. I want to make tons of new friends, until I can find the few I truly need. I want to be a good friend, a good student, and a good person. 

Plans change all the time. Right now, I plan to major in english and education, in hopes of becoming a writer, a librarian, or a teacher, or maybe a bit of all three. But I know that could change. In college, I want to discover passion, and I understand that that passion could lead me away from current plans. But, for now, I can only assume that I will stick to the plan. 

After college, I imagine myself maybe going to graduate school. Or teaching overseas. Or teaching in Canada, if the job market gets better (I'm not counting on that one though). I wouldn't be shocked if I still wrote, in some capacity. Maybe just blogging. Maybe short stories. Maybe reviews. Maybe a novel. Who knows. 

Assuming my life will be the fairytale I've always been promised (and I do not assume this at all, but this is my fantasy, so I'll go with it), I'll meet some great guy, either in college or in the year or two afterwards. What will he be like? Hmm. Interesting question. Well, I'd like him to be nice. Genuinely kind, always wanting to help people, a real, good person. I'd like him to be smart. I respect smart people. I'd like him to have a job he loves. And I'd like him to love me. 

After a few years together, he would propose. In a private place that was meaningful only to the two of us. Intimate. Alone. Personal. I'd say yes, without a second of doubt. We would get married in a small  ceremony--twenty guests, tops. The only people who would be invited would be people who really mean something to us. Our parents. Possibly his siblings (hopefully he has some, or our kid won't have any aunts or uncles or cousins, which would suck!). Best friends. My father would walk me down the aisle. During the father/daughter dance, we'd play a Barenaked Ladies song, probably If I Had A Million Dollars or What A Good Boy. 

Soon, we'd have kids. Sooner rather than later. Given the choice, I'd have kids at twenty-two. I'd almost have kids now. If I have one goal in my life, it's to have children. I want to be a teacher. I want to be a writer. But, more than that, I want to be a mother. That is what I am meant to do, more than anything else. 

We'd have two, possibly three kids. Hopefully the first one would be a girl. She would be named Amelia. Because I like that it has so many vowels. Because of Amelia Thermopolis, the girl who first made me love reading. Because of Amelia Earhart, the girl who wasn't afraid to fly. Because it is the name I gave to my first character in my first real story. Because it meaning to strive or excel, which sounds like me, but also sounds like someone so much better than me. 

I would want her to have at least one sibling, the brother or sister I never had. If it was boy, I'd probably name him Henry. A good, solid name. Or something else. I'm less fond of boys names. Somewhere, in all the different first names and middle names, I'd like to use the name Cassiopeia. It's the name of a greek constellation. I've always loved it. And it could be Cassie, for short, and I'd like that as well. 

Hopefully, my husband would be able to teach my kids the things I can't. How to be outgoing and personable and friendly. How not to be scared. Me, I'd teach them how to work hard. How to trust and love. How to live life with a big heart. How to live, not only survive. I'd share my passions with them. You can bet that any daughter of mine will have a library full of young adult books at her disposal. I can also promise you that on her eleventh or twelfth or possibly thirteenth birthday, she would unwrap her very own copy of Judy Blume's Forever. A parent can teach their kids about such things. But only Judy Blume can make them  understand in the way they need to. 

One day, my kids will grow up. Become teenagers. If they tried to get involved in academics, I'd tell them to be careful. Tell them to live all sides of life, to not limit themselves. But I'd also be proud of them. I'd feel a special connection. But either way, no matter what I say or what I want, they'll grow up, and move out of my house, my neighbourhood, and my city, to attend some school six or seven or eight hours away. One day, they'll be here, where I am today. And I'll feel scared and anxious and sad and excited for them too. I'd tell them that it'd all work out, somehow. 

That's what I want. That's how I want the story of my life to be written. But we'll see. Things  could always change. And I'd be open to that too.