Depending on when you met me, I might have been Jenny: the first grandchild, learning to jump on the sidewalk in front of my grandparents’ house; a Matilda wannabe, determined to read every book in the library (or at least the childrens’ section); a believer in magic, fully convinced I’d seen the Easter Bunny; a stuffed animal rescuer, providing a loving home and a name to many a soft, fluffy rabbit, tiger, and even mom-and-baby-stuffed-pineapple-pair; a big sister, teaching my brother to knock secret messages through the wall that our closet doors shared; a cousin; a best friend forever, wearing one jagged half of a purple plastic broken-heart necklace.
Depending on when you met me, I might have been Jennifer: the new kid, ripped from the comfort of my Midwestern home and plopped into the puddle of the Pacific Northwest; a lonely preteen, wishing into my diary that I could go to Stoneybrook Middle School (the fictional school from the Babysitters Club books); a volunteer pony groomer, always able to get a saddle on Pepsi, the feistiest pony at the farm; a nervous junior-high-schooler, tying a red Gap poncho around my waist to hide pads and tampons in the pocket; a devastated teenager, tapped on the shoulder by my crush at the start of a slow dance, only to realize I was wearing the same distinctive vest as his girlfriend; a teeny bopper calling into radio stations to try to win *Nsync tickets and practicing Britney Spears dance moves with friends; the champion of the watermelon-eating contest at Camp Sambica.
Depending on when you met me, I might have been Jen: a babysitter tucking the youngest of four kids into bed with a Berenstain Bears story; a serious student, stressing over A-minuses and sneaking chocolate-covered espresso beans after studying all night; a confirmand, claiming the Catholic faith my parents hadn’t wanted to pass down to me; the second-slowest member of the JV Cross Country team; an alto, singing the national anthem at graduation in the NFL stadium; a college freshman trying to be fun, clattering around in kitten heels to “go out” with people who weren’t true friends; a caucus delegate for Barack Obama, chosen by my neighbors to represent change as the youngest voter in the precinct; a girlfriend, too amazed that someone wanted to kiss me to consider whether we were good for each other; the secretary of the University of Washington Transfer Student Honor Society; an archaeology student scraping away at the Belgian dirt with a spoon, trying to uncover remains of a medieval castle.
Depending on when you met me, I might have been “Jhen-nee-fair”: an American living in France, joyously discovering my true priorities and perspectives; a long-distance friend; a traveler, collecting experiences, curling up on thin hostel mattresses after long days walking on the cobblestones of cities like Barcelona, Prague, Munich, and Wexford; a romantic, reuniting with my true love under the glittering Eiffel Tower at 11:45 p.m. on New Year’s Eve.
Depending on when you met me, I might have been Ms. Cushing: a Northerner living in the South; a student teacher adopting the Tennessee drawl of my students and mentors; an Episcopalian, converting for “political” reasons; a 3rd-grade teacher in Boston, flying blind without a curriculum, without classroom materials, without the respect of colleagues who distrusted non-Bostonians, without mental health support for traumatized students living in poverty; a fiancée, bachelorette, bride and then wife, transformed in quick succession in the eyes of society but mostly feeling the same.
Depending on when you met me, I might have been Mrs. Larance: a daughter-in-law; a proud new Virginian; a dog mom and dog rescuer; an ESOL teacher, learning language while teaching language learners; a Fulbright fellow, representing the United States in Colombia; Educator of the Year, despite the turmoil of emergency distance learning; a grateful homeowner and homebody amid the stay-at-home times of the global pandemic; a writer discovering her voice.
Written in response to a monthly challenge prompt from TeachWrite, inspired by “Depending On When You Met Me” by Devon Gundry from Soul Pancake.
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