Purpose

Dear Lorenzo,

It's 5:17 a.m. and I should be asleep right now. If this were an ordinary day I would  still be in bed, curled up under the covers and trying to ignore Amira's arm and/or leg which would be flung carelessly across my head or back. If this were an ordinary day I would wake up shortly before 6:00 a.m., throw a load of laundry into the washer, make Amira's breakfast and lunch, and then hop onto the elliptical to workout for 45 minutes while watching Golic and Wingo on ESPN2. Afterwards, I would run downstairs to put the laundry into the dryer, hurry back upstairs to wake Amira, take a shower, get dressed, throw my salad together and hurry Amira along until we are both dressed and rushing out the door to get her to camp, and me to work, on time. 

But this is not an ordinary day. Because on this day I've decided to start living my life with intention. On this day I've decided not to put off my own hopes and dreams for even one more moment.

When I was diagnosed with M.S. twenty years ago, one of the first things I asked the doctor was, "Can I still work out?" You see, I was living in California that year and had even less of a social life than I have right now. I'd joined a gym to meet new people and possibly make some new friends but along the way, I'd discovered the joys and the adrenaline rush of a good workout.

I couldn't picture the rest of my life without it.

And I can't picture the rest of my life without writing either.

Which is why I'm wide awake, talking to you instead of continuing the dream I was having of moving back to Cambridge and making $100 per hour by becoming a piano teacher. (Which is especially funny considering the fact that I can't play the piano or afford to live in my beloved hometown.)

I always thought that becoming an author was a dream reserved for a select few. The James Baldwins and Toni Morrisons of the world. I didn't speak my dreams aloud because I certainly wasn't worthy of them. And so I did what I believe so many of us do. I took the safe route and never even bothered to try.

But that's not who I want to be anymore.

At 44 years old I finally have the courage to say what I haven't said since 7th grade, "Hello, my name is Khadija Jamila Brewington and I want to be a writer when I grow up."

I finally have the courage to try.

And I don't believe it's too late for me. I don't believe it's too late for any of us.