Going-to-be-a-doctor
I was going-to-be-a-doctor.
It’s true. I was.
And they loved it.
“My daughter is going-to-be-a-doctor.”
“My friend is going-to-be-a-doctor.”
Pride illuminating their faces.
I was going-to-be-a-doctor.
Until I fell in love.
Now
I am
Female, Intelligent, Driven, American, Intense, Emotional, Jewish, Vulnerable, Jealous, Shy, Conscious, Passionate, Fascinated.
But
I am NOT
going-to-be-a-doctor.
Because I love him.
And e.e.cummings was right:
“My wrist hands
which held carefully the soft silence
of you (and your body
smile eyes feet hands)
are different
from what they were.”
Sunday crossword puzzles and plates of syrup drenched pancakes
Bottles of red wine and foreign films
Coffee shops and used book stores
Are better than medical school acceptance letters and white coats with patches.
I love him
So
I am going to be a doctor.