Henry goes to NYU. "Join me in class tomorrow" he says late Sunday night and I wouldn't do it for anyone else. The look on mother's face when I tell her I'm off to school is priceless. They sent me home once in ninth grade for being drunk, I don't think she will ever get over it.
I'm in the back of the auditorium blogging, a blonde row of perfect pony tails lined up in front of me. Sometimes I think I envy them but the truth is I don't. Just like them, my father knew exactly what he wanted in life but ended up in the ground at Oakwood Memorial Park Cemetery.
It's not that I don't believe in having a dream, but if you know what your future is going to look like then what else is there?