com·fort·a·ble
/ˈkəmfərtəbəl/
Adjective
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There's a difference between comfortable and ease. Because it's just easy for somebody to hand something to you. For somebody to just give something to you. There is a difference and don't contest it. Now, it may not mean nothing to y'all but understand nothing was done for me. I was raised with a roof over my head, food on the table and clothes on my back. It may not have always been the clothes that I liked or wanted, but I wasn't running the streets in the nude. I grew up in Rosedale, Queens. Not quite the suburbs until recently but it wasn't a housing project or anything. Right on the periphery of Nassau County. But it's Queens and don't you contest that.
I'm the youngest and you know what they say about the last born. "The spoiled one." "She gets everything she wants." "The baby." But don't confuse yourselves now. Nothing was ever done for me. Nothing was ever handed to me. Maybe a pacifier when I cried and whined to get my way, but that's it. I wasn't raised in a six figure income household. I was raised in a household headed by two immigrants turned American citizens. I was raised by two of the hardest working individuals that I know. I was raised. I didn't just grow up. I was taught right from wrong. Early on, I was taught the value of independence and hard work. I was taught to fend for myself. I was taught to work for everything I get. I was raised. I didn't just pop out of my mother's womb learning how to hold the door for people behind me. I didn't just automatically know how to say "please" and "thank you". I was trained, so to speak. I learned, from my parents, the importance of apologizing when I'm wrong, and standing my ground when I'm right. I was raised.
Nothing was handed to me. I was raised comfortably because I never went hungry. I can't say that I was famished. I can't say that you could have seen my bones poking out of my chest due to lack of nourishment. I can't say that. Because my parents ensured that I had everything I needed. As for the wants, those came occasionally. They came when they saw it fit. But don't ever mistaken my parents hard work for being rich. If we're rich, we are rich with culture, discipline and love. We are not rich with man made currency.
My parents are intelligent. I can understand how it may look from the outside looking in. I can understand people mistaking their intelligence and great money management skills for us being rich. We are the farthest from rich though. If we were rich, I would not be a student at Suny Albany. Rutgers maybe, but not Suny Albany. I value you a dollar not because I'm cheap, but because I know a dollar does not come easy. I thank God for giving me parents who didn't feel the need to splurge on unnecessary trips and assets in their prime. They have good credit, and because of that, I don't have to worry about undergraduate loans and such.
I wasn't raised with a silver spoon in my mouth. Nor was I raised with a shiny plastic credit card in my hand. People need to understand the difference between being raised comfortably and being raised without being told "no". I believe that those of us who did not have to wonder where our next meal was coming from or live in fear of a landlord giving an eviction notice, were raised comfortably. Comfortable does not come from material things. If you believe so, you have it all wrong. Material things are accessories and props that may make life a little sweeter, if you're into that. Comfortable for my parents is being able to pay out of pocket for my sisters and my college tuition. It isn't being able to push the "flyest" whips. It is in knowing that we don't have to beg, borrow and steal. It is in knowing that this house is ours and nobody is going to take it away from us. It is in knowing that we can sometimes give back to family members who don't have the pleasure of saying that they live comfortably.
Don't tell me I'm rich in dollar bills, you'll simply sound like a fool.
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