the beginning....

I had no answer for her. I looked at her critical, questioning face, and searched through the files of my mind for the correct answer. As I searched, I knew I wouldn't find the answer in my organized, logical mind. I had to find this in my disorganized, free heart whom I had long ago silenced. I wasn't sure I knew where or how to find anything in my heart anymore. I kept searching my brain; logic and reason. They always provided the best answer, right?

I had once asked my mother the same question. My wanderlust heart had once wondered how she had abandoned her passionate dreams for a mediocre life of security. How had she traded life for mere existence? She too had had no answer. Had she also ignored and silenced her heart?

My daughter tapped her foot and rolled her eyes. My silence confirmed her accusation: that I was a sell-out to my own soul; that I could never understand her and her dreams; that she was right in ignoring everything I'd told her. But I did understand! In some vague memory (was this my heart?) I remembered wanting life as she described it. I remembered hating the suburbia house, cars and clothes that now defined me. I remembered wondering how to live without becoming an outcast of society. I remembered not caring if I did become an outcast, at least then I would be free.

Free. Freedom. There were two words I hadn't dwelt on lately. Of course I used the often at political events or discussions. But was I free? Had I really lived the life I'd always dreamed of? No. I had to admit to myself, I hadn't. I had done nothing I'd dreamed of in school; I had done and become everything I despised.

Somewhere during my musings, my daughter huffed out of my presence. I wondered if I could find this answer while at the salon...I didn't really want to revisit why I hadn't become what I had always wanted or why I didn't know how I got to where I was.