Free

My mind falls on a day in the fall when my mother filled out the paperwork for school and gave it to me to return.  In all my days, I never thought to open the envelope and read what she wrote, but one day I did.  It was the standard free lunch and free textbook form.  I had a short walk from our home on thirteenth street to Dr. Andy Hall School, but once I got there, I had an epiphany.  The form entitled my mother to free lunch and textbooks if she did not make over a certain amount of money.  As a matter of fact, I understood that the moment she wanted to better herself, she would have to assume the responsibility of paying for the lunches.  If she wanted the help, she had to remain poor.  My mother signed up for a program to pay the utility bills after the winter.  Once again, you had to remain poor to receive it.  We moved across the street from the community center where they gave out free cheese and butter and once again, we had to identify with poverty in order to qualify.  My mother made sure we always qualified, but it hit a sour note with me.  It dawned on me that she was selling her identity to receive what she thought was free.  As a matter of fact, what got her out of the bed on certain days was getting something for free.  I examined this in my mind as a child.  You have to stay poor to get the oldest cheese in the universe.  You have to stay poor to get glasses made by inmates.  You have to stay poor to have the worse doctors in the profession.  You have to stay poor to shop and get the worse grocery stores.  Qualifying was producing a way of life that I did not want to live.  I did not want a free life.  I would rather pay and get good glasses.  I would rather pay and shop at the good grocery stores.  I would rather pay and eat the good cheese.  Even if I did not have the money, I will never identify with poverty.  Everything that is free is not..................free.