It Takes a Village

Some children are raised by a mom and a dad. Some by two moms, or by two dads. Some children have foster parents or no parents at all. In my case I was raised by a village. Growing up I always knew my life was different. There was a constant traffic of new people and different people who both entered and left my life. My parents worked therefore there had to be other people in my life. The most important of these for many years was my nanny, Cookie. Cookie was more than hired help. She was my mom, my grandmother, and my friend all wrapped into one. She took care of me like I was her own. To the point that unlike most children whose first word is Mommy or Daddy, mine was Cookie. My mother told me how she stood in front of my high chair preplexed as to why I was demanding cookies yet every time she gave me one I would throw it back. I would cry, scream, and yell, COOKIE!!!! She then realized that all I wanted was my Cookie.
Cookie was a part of the village that raised me. Now of course almost 21 years later its hard to remember being with her, but for some reason I can still feel her presence. This afternoon my mom called to tell me that Cookie had passed away. I cried and of course it lead to an arguement about "Well, if I hadn't have told you, you would have been mad at me." It's true I would have been mad not to know or to find out from another source.
Every person in my village has taught me something important about life. Cookie was one of  those people who could just live in the moment. She could go from one  thing to the next without looking back. No sorrow, no pain, just happiness. I have never been this kind of person. But after hearing this news I realize that it is time to become this kind of person. The kind of person who just lives in the moment.