If I Stay » Parker

who i was

one;
who i was.

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WHO I WAS was never a question I had to ask myself often. I knew exactly who I was; I was Addie, just a normal sixteen year old living a life that she loved. I always felt fortunate and completely content with what I had. Ever since I was a little girl, my mother, Christi, would have me look in the mirror and count the things I was thankful for. She said that even if I could only think of one thing, then that one thing was reason enough to celebrate another day and continue to live on.

I took that tradition seriously. Each morning, as soon as my legs swung over the side of the bed and my toes touched the cold, hardwood floor of my room, I would carry myself over to my bathroom mirror and look myself in the eye. I'd hold up my hand and begin counting my blessings, raising a finger with each one. I did it so much that it was often repetitive of the same exact things, but it was a gentle reminder of how lucky I was.

One; I was thankful for a new breath of fresh air in my lungs. Two; A family that I loved dearly and that I knew loved me back unconditionally. Three; A roof over my head. Although our humble apartment in Queens wasn't much to look at, it was home. Four; Food on the table every night, for I knew that hundreds of others around me weren't as lucky. Five; A good education and a school I didn't absolutely hate. Sure, it wasn't my favorite place to be, but it definitely could have been worse.

After I covered the basics, the things that everyone counts when they're saying their nightly prayers, I would move on to more specific details. Six; My bike. It was an annoyingly neon blue color, for I had bought it on sale at a thrift store and had no say in what paint it had. But, I was thankful for it because it saved me from wasting countless dollar bills on cab rides around the city. It took me to school, to run errands, to my friend's place, to my violin lessons.

Speaking of violin lessons, then came number seven; my violin itself. My parents bought it for me one Christmas many years ago. They'd saved up so much money in order to give me a high quality one. It was the one thing I unwrapped that year, birthday included, but that didn't matter. Music was my passion, and that little instrument brought me endless joy. It gave me a sense of purpose, a security that I could always rely on.

Eight; I was thankful for New York City. I wouldn't want to live anywhere else. Sure, I always wondered what the sunny beach or the chilly mountains would be like, but I was always quickly reminded that New York was where I belonged by the sense of happiness that encompassed me whenever I stopped and took a look at my surroundings. The traditions, the agenda, the endless opportunities to pursue your dreams, it was absolutely perfect.