I crossed the bridge out of poverty blindly and holding on to my mother's hand. If only it were that easy. The thinking, lessons and fears crept right along with me. The skills taught by poverty served to confuse me and were no use on the other side.
Why think about tomorrow? Today and all its challenges are overwhelming enough. Food for today and some type of escape or even a numbing are the only priorities. And respect. Respect is everything. Even jokes were offensive to my wounded mind. Everything was personal and needed to be squared or responded to.
Poor people, rich people and everyone in between, understand that nothing is guaranteed. It is universally held. Being poor, however, one understands that it is our fate that things can always get worse. So if I had anything, I held it to me so tight that it seemed a part of me. What saved me was that I held on to what my mother gave me, the hope for something better. I clamped down on it like a bulldog, so certain that life would beat me so that I might drop it.
Thank you mama. I am not trapped in today. I can think about the future now and sometimes even the past without fear.
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