…I want to be a princess.
Of course, now that I've reached my sixth decade, the odds of either growing up or suddenly becoming royalty are not so hot. I guess the princess thing could work out -- all it takes is a Prince Charming, right? Of course, now that certain body parts have not only moved, they've relocated to a different zip code, my fairy godmother better get crackin'.
But the growing up thing? Not a hooker's chance in Heaven. I've taken that trip and trust me, once was enough. Back before the earth was cool, when I was a slip of a twenty-year-old, my life was filled with "shoulds." I should get a degree that I could actually turn into a job. I should get a stable, respectable job. I should marry a nice young man. I should raise a family, join the Junior League and do my part. I should grow up, be responsible.
So, since I should, I did.
Life went along as it . . . should, with highs and lows, until, the day my son and only child left for college. A bittersweet transition, for sure. Even though we'd been a duo for a long time, I was prepared. But as I watched him drive away, the realization that I was no longer part of a 'we' hit my heart. Worse, I could even remember the 'me' before the 'we.' What did I like to do when I had time to do what I wanted? The 'shoulds' had filled every waking moment since my son was born, pushing me aside. I had been a good mother, a good spouse, a good friend, a good daughter, but I hadn't been a good me. But who was I exactly? Better yet, with a relatively clean slate and no more shoulds, who did I want to be? Where to start? What to do? I was lost.
So, I moved to New York. Desperate measures, desperate times and all of that. But, lest you think me completely certifiable, let me explain.
Back when my son was small and I was a struggling single mom and a newly minted attorney, I dreamed of earning an LLM in Tax Law from NYU. I applied and was accepted, but I didn't have the money nor could I fathom raising a four-year-old in the Village where barbed wire still adorned the tops of fences circling the playgrounds. So, we went to kid-friendly Colorado instead.
And now it was my turn. But did I have the courage to remake myself, to pick up the threads of dreams I had let go? Perhaps even to dream anew? NYU still had me in the computer. It was a sign.
The first day of school, I felt like a kid again -- wracked with doubt, but buoyed by the thrill of a new adventure . . . until I walked through the doorway of Vanderbilt Hall.
The security guard gave me a bored once-over and held out a hand. "I.D.?"
"Wow," I said as I rooted in my purse for that magical piece of plastic -- my ticket to a dream. "You have a metal detector going into school? I thought the point was to get people in, not keep them out."
The guard gave me one of those you've-been-hit-with-a-stupid-stick looks, then glanced at my I.D. "Are you new to the faculty?"
"No."
"You have a child enrolled, then?"
My eyes got all slitty. "No." I yanked my student I.D. from his hand and stalked inside. Undefeated, I joined a gaggle of new students talking animatedly.
One young thing turned to me and said, "Hey, where'd ya'll go to school?"
"University of Texas."
"Righteous! I bet you know my parents, they went there, too." Nothing like having my nose rubbed in my decrepitude. One of life's cruelest ironies: the outside ages, but the inside still feels twenty-five. Licking my wounds, I figured the first day of class would be better.
Wrong.
Arriving early, I watched the students trail in and set up their computers. One brave student slid into the seat next to mine. After eyeing my legal pad and pencil as if they were a stone tablet and chisel, she looked at me and deadpanned, "Quaint."
Apparently a few things had changed since my days in law school. I had to run to catch up, but catch-up I did. And I discovered that, even though my brain might not be a facile as it once was, I have the benefit of experience and of knowing what hard work is. There isn't a twenty-four-year-old alive with no job, no spouse, and no kids who knows how hard one has to work when they have all three. These youngsters might out-think me, but I could work them. I was right.
NYU was the best thing I ever did. To live life anew, to chase old dreams and reach for new ones, takes a boatload of courage. I found mine in New York and embraced personal discovery and reinvention.
So, every year I check in with myself. Am I doing what I want to do? Are the people in my life making my world better? Am I adding positive energy to the Universe?
I don't practice law anymore. Being a novelist was one of my very first dreams. After NYU, I found the courage to chase it. Now, I'm living it.
Forgive me for paraphrasing, but I think Oprah once said that if we aren't doing something everyday that takes us outside our comfort zone then we aren't living.
So, I ask you, are you living?
Deborah Coonts, author of "Lucky Stiff," says her mother tells her she was born in Texas a very long time ago, though she's not totally sure -- her mother can't be trusted. But she was definitely raised in Texas on barbeque, Mexican food and beer. She currently resides in Las Vegas, where family and friends tell her she can't get into too much trouble. Silly people. Coonts has built her own business, practiced law, flown airplanes, written a humor column for a national magazine, and survived a teenager. She is the author of the Lucky O'Toole Las Vegas adventure series. Her first book, "Wanna Get Lucky?", was released in 2010. Please visit www.deborahcoonts.com, and follow the author on Facebook and Twitter.
