Reflection

At twenty years old I had done all I could, exhausted every avenue I had available, even the ones that only hinted at a chance of saving my grandmother's house. It became clear that after a time that I was only fooling myself. There was no way I could buy my grandparents house. Nancie had already stole, lied, and manipulated almost all of its worth. If she hadn't done that, and the money that should have been there was, I could have done it. I would have done anything, I was prepared to work as many hours as it took, get another job, take a break from school, anything.

 

The realization hit me as I laid in my bed, in the silence, watching the occasional car send stretching shadows of the norway maple branches up and down my window. My muffled heartbeats bellowed in my head and ears, making the darkness quiet for everything except me. I had failed. I felt alone, alone because I was the last line of defense against the arbitrary, orderly, average 'rules' of society that forced us to have to sell the house. Because who could afford it in this market? The whole situation didn't register in my brain, it couldn't. Family, love, growing up, learning, sleepovers: none of that required money. From day one I was taught those were the very things that mattered the most, before anything else, especially money, when it came to living a good life and loving my family. Yet money was the only thing stopping me from saving 27 Autumn Drive, the place I had learned those very things. It wasn't about buying, it wasn't about owning, it was about saving--and I couldn't make it happen. 

 

To my brothers and I, the house was more than a building, it was more than a home, it represented our childhood, part of which we were still experiencing. The house was a trophy, a resonating declaration of success for all those ancestors that risked the journey to America in the jam-packed boats and filthy cargo holds. Those who wished only to give their children a shot at a better life. Back then, 27 Autumn Drive would have been only a whisper at the back of their mind, an inconceivable benefit of giving someone a chance in America. 27 Autumn Drive was the first, the biggest, the shiniest example of success, and it belonged to me, by inheritance, to benefit anyone else in the future who wanted an example of achievement and triumph, that know that it is possible. But society's cold hand knocked at our door, and we had to take the 'smart,' 'logical,' and 'responsible' way out. Who had the money to buy a house anyway? Not us, and not me.

 

Whoever said money isn't important lied, and they continue to lie because I hear it said too often. Whether they intentionally deceive with their vile words or truly believe them I cannot say. I don't think it matters; it doesn't take away from the wickedness of what they preach. I don't know from experience if money can buy happiness, but I can say that lack of money can bring divisive hatred, hardship, and loss. Like it or not, believe it or not, the sad truth is that money is everything. In society we cannot move, function, or breathe without it. Everyone is in a perpetual struggle for it. And we cannot spend a day without its inexorable hold, influencing us in some big, small, annoying, tedious way.

 

Who can deal with that anyway? I can't afford to, life is too short and some things are just too important.