Rice

Rice

I remember going without dinner many of nights not really knowing why. At the end of the month, all we survived on was rice. Butter rice. Pepper rice. If we were lucky, a slice of government cheese on top of that rice. I remember the look on my grandmother’s face every time the lights got turned off. I was poor but never really felt poor. I knew or accepted really early in my childhood that we didn’t have much, so part of me decided that I should never ask or want for more and that would guarantee my happiness. I kind of still live my life that way. I have an apartment, but for the last year I slept on the floor. I tell myself it’s because the floor is more comfortable but it’s because I’m still sleeping on the floor in my own life. It’s that deep.

A funny thing happened the other day. I was at my ex’s apartment, mostly because I had no food at my place, but he was also broke. He was spending all his money to go on some big Carnival cruise. It was funny; he said he was cooking dinner, just rice. I asked, just rice, nothing else. Then he replied he loved rice. I almost screamed. I felt tears building up in my eyes. It had been like 15 years since I had just rice. I was thirty one years old, a grown ass man with no children, and I was still eating just Rice. I felt poor. "I still ate the damn rice." I felt as if I wasn’t getting anywhere in my life. Yes, I was in an apartment I really couldn’t afford. Yes, I went through all my savings taking off work to write that damn novel but only ended up drinking and eating a lot of Popeyes chicken. Gained like twenty pounds.

My entire life I never really wanted much. As a kid, I never cared for toys because I thought they were wasteful and broke too easy. I felt all I needed was a good book and I could get that for free from the library.

But it’s nothing like eating Rice on a Sunday night with less than a dollar in your checking account that reality is humble. It was some bullshit. I needed to budget better. They say 90 percent born in poverty, return to poverty. I wonder if I really got out. I now understand poverty is not about money, it’s about perception of one’s life. I will never be materialistic. I am a very cheap bastard.

Yet, i know one thing has changed. It’s what I feel I deserve. When I was a kid, I had to accept things I couldn’t control. I never really complained because I was grateful. Really grateful just to eat. But as a man, it’s not acceptable for me. I used to think that was pride. My grandma used to say don’t ever get caught up in pride. She said she had known people who have starved or got them selves killed because of their damn Pride. I don’t have pride, but now if I’m eating rice, I want it with some chicken and a biscuit damnit. I want to get a comfortable enough bed so I can get off my floor in my overpriced apartment. RISE.