My brother calls me Gina. Sometimes he asks me what happened to Gina P., the fun-loving sister that he once knew. The sister that was way more lighthearted and cared a lot less about success and all that stuff. The Gina that just liked to live an love.
You know, sometimes, I don’t even know what happened to her. Sometimes, I miss the fun Regina. The Regina that was careless and not the one who could care less. The one who embraced adventure and took life by the wings, not calculating every move. The one who wasn’t so consumed in what I had to do to be prepared for tomorrow.
She was really fun. My brother and I used to freestyle together and dribble the ball together. Laugh together. We just had a good time together. I remember those days. And it’s not like those days are totally over, but childhood was a lot easier. No bills and not a whole lot of concern…except who’s dating who, who you were going to sit with for lunch, and how could I get to my next adventure.
Boy those were the good old days. I would say I miss them, and yeah, I kinda do, but it’s true. I had to grow up. It sucks. But everyday, you see a glimpse of Gina P…She never went away. She’s just camouflaged in the day to day. But when you hear a what the heck, a horrible freestyle, a boisterous laugh, a random dance, a cheer, or just my sensible smile, you know Gina P. is still there – still caring and still fighting for the ones I love. Enveloped in the fire and the chiseled exterior is the young lady who still loves hard, plays hard, and laughs even harder. Gina P. hasn’t disappeared, it’s just little harder to recognize her.