One Hundred One

One hundred and one days ago I was there in Arkansas. With Brad. For the summer. Visiting Rudy.
  
One hundred and one days ago Elizabeth and Roberto were here in California. On their own.

20 years old.

At that age, like Roberto, I was trying to find myself. How I fit into the world at large, and more importantly, how to live my best life.

23 years old.

Unlike Liz, I was married.

Like her, I too, was a student. Overwhelmed with everything. Priorities were changing. Knowing I couldn't give up on my education; yet, wanting to break away so badly. Learning how to handle it all.

While on their own one hundred and one days ago, both young adults learned what living on their own entailed. Not easy. But manageable.

They kept the place organized. Fed themselves. And were productive in their working world. Aside from those grown up responsibilities, they simply had fun. Together. With friends.

They learned how important money is. To pay the bills, and buy necessities. Fortunately for them, Rudy and I were just a phone call and transferring of funds bank account away. To keep all finances afloat.

One hundred and one days ago I was relaxing in Arkansas. Taking it easy. Moving slow. Doing what I wanted. Whenever. With Brad. With Rudy.  

Without Liz. 

Without Roberto.

Today, in California, I am on the go. Go. Go. Go. Pedal to the Metal. My feet seem to be forever moving. Taking me here. There. Everywhere. Relaxing takes effort. Sometimes, I do whatever I want; yet, only whenever I can make the time. With Elizabeth. With Roberto. With Brad.  

Without Rudy.

Two lives. I am living.

One relaxed.

Like the life I live during my vacations from teaching.
Like one hundred and one days ago. In Arkansas.

The other life, busy. More things to attend to.

Now.

In California.