What?

I'm not sure if this is a poem, a story, or a vent. I was a little hesitant to share, but I guess I want some other opinions on my writing. I've kinda been exposed to some written word by another friend, so it has a little influence from that, too because it's fun to read out loud. Here goes nothin'.

What?
By me, duh.

Someone asked me the other day what I wanted to be "after I graduate" because apparently "when I grow up" has happened. Supposedly. At first I was angry. At that person for asking me, at people in general for asking me (not that they would know it offends me), and at the world for expecting a 15-year-old to know what they want to occupy their time with for the next 45 years. I searched for an all encompassing answer that would explain everything to them, but ended up saying,"I haven't decided yet." And how could I? How could I know? How could they expect me to know? You plan for the future; you don't know the future. So, this is what I am going to do after I graduate, when I "grow up."

After I graduate, when I "grow up," I'm still going to be a musician. And a Christian. And a reader. I will still love experimenting to discover how things work and what makes the world tick. I will still drink a lot of tea and eat a lot of bagels. I will still be a conservative Republican. After I graduate I will still be me.

After I graduate, when I "grow up," I could study music. Become a music educator, and sing, and play instruments and perform. Teach the skills needed to bring the joy of pitch, dynamic, tone, inflection, mood, articulation. To bring a sheet of paper to life. The skills to fill a room with colliding waves of sound that reverberate in satisfaction.

After I graduate, when I "grow up," I could satisfy my thirst for words by becoming an English expert and grammarian extraordinaire. I could infuse teenagers with a love, no, a passion for using expressive adjectives and sculpting sentences until they ring a ring that makes you want to read the sentence again and again until you have it memorized it by heart. That literature written hundreds of years ago by "old dead white guys" is completely and totally relevant and applicable to life today. That their unique, personal view of the world matters. That you can write to relive stress, and angst for what is to come in your life.

After I graduate, when I "grow up," I want to visit Europe. The lights of Paris, the hills of Ireland, the vineyards of Italy. Germany and Sweden where my great-great-great grandparents were born. Venice. Vienna. Little cafés and shops. Castles and ruins. Adventure. Mystery and history. It all beckons from across the pond.

After I graduate, when I "grow up," I want to live out of a backpack for a year. I want a solid bike, and a map of the U.S. From the east coast to the west coast. And back again. But finally settle down in the prairies of home.

After I graduate, when I "grow up," I want to meet a girl. The girl. The one who is home without knowing it. I suppose I will know when I find her. She will be intelligent, but not overbearing. Poetic, but not sappy. Quirky like me. She will be kind and gentle. Beautiful where it counts. I cannot wait to meet her, but perhaps I already have.

After I graduate, when I "grow up," I want to grow old surrounded by grandchildren who love being bounced on my knees. I want to read them books and sing them songs. Tell them stories about "when I was your age." Give them gold dollars every time I see them.

After I graduate, when I "grow up," I want to be remembered, not for the things I've done, but for the people that I loved. I want to be remembered in a piano scale and an old tire swing. A bible verse. The treehouse down by the river. Burned cookies, and a family who loves each other. How, through thick and thin faith will always get you where you need to go. How family is all that really matters, even if they aren't biological. How my story is done, and you have to carry on with yours after I graduate, after I grow up.