As I left her classroom for the final time, she put her arm around me and whispered in my ear, "You need to get out of here. You're meant for somewhere else."
I had not seriously considered my life outside of that quadrant of four small towns until that very moment.
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They didn't have garbage bags in their house - they just used the bags from the grocery store. You decide what to spend your money on, honey child. Some things are worth it. Some aren't.
Every time I search the shelves for the twenty-five cent can of tomato sauce instead of the sixty five cent can, I hear him. (I also hear him every time I pass up the $1.99 chili powder in favor of the stuff that costs almost $5. It makes a difference, I swear, Uncle Lenny.)
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Don't get married, they said. You'll ruin your life. All your freedom will be gone with those vows. I looked at them, their pain so clear in their faces, determined not to let them see my pity or my fear.
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Some people aren't meant for this, he said, as he looked pointedly at me. It's okay to exit gracefully.
But sometimes it's hard to know where the door is.
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