Looking back over the years, I felt nothing but grateful for how far I’d come. My quest for success had not been in vain.
I spent the whole of my 20s struggling to ‘make it’, to achieve by myself everything my parents couldn’t afford to provide for my younger siblings and I.
I succeeded.
I did so well at every job I got, I always found myself at the top position, and after less than 15 years of working, I was made Executive Director in one of the country’s most successful financial institutions.
Now at 38, I had it all; wealth, position, power and every good thing money can buy. My siblings graduated from the best schools and my parents were living a lavish life thanks to my determination to eradicate poverty completely from our home.
I was feared by many and revered by some. I went out of my way to meet and dine with the wealthiest and most prestigious people in the society, as I continued my bid to change my family’s history.
Everything I did was in an effort to never be referred to as ‘the poor kid’, the one whose father had to toil day and night as a taxi driver and nightwatchman just to put his kids through school.
I appreciated my father’s efforts and knew I had to make him happy. It was my duty to see that he had a taste of the good life before he passed on.
Every time I saw him in his expensive suit and shiny black Louboutins, I smiled a little at the ridiculousness of getting all dressed up just to sit and watch TV. My mother couldn’t for the life of her understand it, but I did. I knew how powerful he felt wearing those clothes.
I felt good. Life was good.
At my age, many would expect that I’d be living in sadness, knowing that my younger sisters were both married, while I remained an ‘old maid’.
They would never understand that love was not for me. I just couldn’t imagine sharing my life with someone else, someone who would feel like it was his place to dictate what I did or didn’t do with my time.
I loved being an aunt, but the thought of having my own kids scared me to death. I couldn’t possibly be patient enough to manage them.
Perhaps I would fall in love eventually, perhaps I’d just move states, get a dog and keep working until I retired, but for now, life felt really good. I had no complaints whatsoever.
I still enjoyed the challenge of demystifying seemingly difficult situations at work, I enjoyed being the ‘lady boss’, I loved getting home after a long day and enjoying the peace and quiet that came with living alone, and yes, I liked the idea of knowing I could get sex whenever I wanted without having to commit to one man.
Life was indeed good.
No Fields Found.
