Who I am --> Who I want to be.

Life is a process of self-discovery, reflection, awareness and education. And the process can be down right excruciatingly painful a times.

When I was 20 years about to graduate from college I was so sure I wanted to join corporate America and be one of those 80 hours per week corner office dynamo. A year later graduation had come and gone, law school was more of an annoyance than something I felt committed to finishing.

I looked to the left and the right I was surrounded by classmates who would sell their souls to the highest bidder.  And all I could think was my soul is nice and shiny I want to keep it that way. My boredom in law school increased. Then the phone call, my mothers brain tumor had stabilized and they felt it was the best time to operate. I quickly packed up dumped what I didn't want, took what I wanted and went home.

The doctors gave a grim prognosis, surgery was a 10% shot and if she didn't have it well they didn't have to finish the sentence to feel the grim reaper rubbing his hands.  The surgeon placed his hands on my shoulder and said: "if she does wake up she may not be able to walk or talk." My mom was prepped for surgery. We are not a family of criers, instead I looked at my mom and told her it would be in poor taste if she failed to wake up or if she lost the ability to walk or talk. My mom nodded in agreement.

They wheeled her away so small wrapped up in so many hospital bed linens to keep her warm. I locked my jaw and my mind. I reminded myself we did not cry.  My sisters watched me they were all younger, the youngest sat down and started crying my other sisters comforted her. I held her hand and told her it was important to remember that our mom is a tough old broad. And because I was not in charge as my mother was in surgery I started recounting our family history.

I spoke about the beginning back in my mothers native land her dream to come to the USA. I spoke about her hardships how she had overcome every single one by herself alone with almost no English skills. My sisters spines strengthened they remembered we weren't like other people we were strong we didn't cry. With the anxiety gone my sisters fell back into their respective normal rhythm as we waited for the surgery to finish.

I had done my job, feigning man like hunger I said I was going to grab some food. My sisters kept talking. I rode the elevator down one flight ducked into an empty bathroom stall and cried for an hour. All those years I had read about heartbreak and I now I felt. I felt my heart breaking for my mom she still had dreams, goals, she was still young. My sisters still needed her and I was in no position to take over.

When I was able to calm myself I fixed my face and headed outside allergies were the perfect excuse for red eyes. I walked for over an hour. Mindlessly.

I stiffened my spine, my actress skills needed to be impeccable when I went back upstairs. My sisters were on several chairs sleeping, the waiting room was beautiful and comfortable, but I found little joy or comfort in the area itself.

Eight hours later, the surgeon came out, we were all drained but felt a bolt of energy at his appearance. Your mother is out of surgery, she is in the ICU we are waiting for the swelling to go down so she can naturally wake up. We nodded and thanked the surgeon.

The  next morning we arrived before visiting hours (when you have a large hospital and only two visitors are permitted you quickly learn that by hopping from one building to the next you can go anywhere) We walked in my mom opened her eyes she frowned. She put her hand up to the bandage that partially obscured her eyes. Before we could say anything she demanded in righteous indignation: Who won the game last night and they need to fix this bandage if I am going to watch my game. The surgeon had just walked in and was going to ask her a series of questions to determine if any mental functioning had been affected. He took one look at my mom, and I could tell he was patting himself on the back. He walked back out of the rooms no questions.

Did I change my mind about working 80 per week and the corner office because of my mom? No. I had already started to suspect that chasing artificial dreams is no different than insomnia.

I think I learned in that one tumultuous year that life is so unpredictable that trying to nail it down is like trying to embrace the wind a beautiful but impossible idea.