the guilt of progress

I came to university to actualize a dream, to fulfill my potential and experience the wonders of the world. I have moved forwards and upwards, but I am still not just myself. I am a reflection of my father and mother, of generations and generations past, of a family lost and forgotten. Why is it me that deserves these experiences, the fruits of all their labor? What do I deserve? What is my duty?

I remember turning away from prices not written in bright fluorescent red

I remember asking stores for the ugly produce in the back shelves

I remember scavenging for coupons off sticky magazines

I remember sleeping in bags with the heat off

I remember the free brown bag lunches

I remember growing up too fast

Guilt is a dinner on the Wharf

Guilt is a weekend trip to Manhattan

Guilt is the dewey scent of pear and freesia

Now I sit in houndstooth and tan tartan, adorned with gold

Now I have what I have sought and fought for. I have what I deserve

Now I have walked the road not taken, seen the road only I could have taken

I run to the shops rather than the laundry room. Delivery apps fill my home screen. Therapy is a weekly retail visit. My nights are Thomas Keller in dimly lit rooms. They say, up & forward, never look back. But I wish they could be here with me. I have lost the meaning of an hour, of a dollar, of a dream. How can I accept this reality? What even is acceptance of my brave new world?

Maybe acceptance is a check back home

Maybe acceptance is a phone call more often

Maybe acceptance is a promise to pave an unknown path

 On the path to a life without struggle, there is a journey without end, a story without resolution.

There is much guilt to acknowledge, privilege to be reckoned with, realities to reconcile. 

The narrow path to purpose is paved with doubt, and yet widens with every step.