Defining Normal

I’m having a hard time defining normal. Considering I have never once in my life been called this, nor can I say I associate with it in nearly any way. But, after shaving my brothers head, stepping over half dead crickets and chicken bones to get to my room I turned around and looked at the carnage behind me and thought, “is this normal“. And I realized, I don’t have a real example to it compare it to.

For the past four years I lived on a floor with 50 other girls all sharing six toilets and three showers. I’ve seen the worst of what 50 girls can do. When I’m at home I have to walk through my mothers dining room turned costume shop and my insane cat’s art project of the day; which is usually a ball of yarn that extends to every floor and room of the house. Is that normal?

You see my dilemma. I have no “normal” to base anything off of. I mean, is it normal to ride in a tank for fun as a kid? Is it normal to move every two years? Is it normal to have your best friend live three rooms away from you? Maybe not for you, but this was what I had gotten used to.

So maybe the next time I walk 5 meters out of my house to dump my trash into a hole dug by my brother, I’ll consider what my family sees as normal.

And it seems like crickets of chicken it is.

There are no comments

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *