Ruby
On July 5, 2003, a harrowing SARS outbreak had officially been contained globally. On that day, a suicide bombing occurred in Moscow at a music festival. Political uproar was occurring in Hong Kong. The Kobe Bryant sexual assault case was underway. Serena Williams defeated her sister in a singles match. A Russian hockey player committed suicide on vacation. “Crazy in Love” by Beyoncé was the #1 on the Billboard Hot 100. And “Miss Independent” by Kelly Clarkson and “Bring Me to Life” by Evanescence were tied for the #1 song on America’s Top 40. Terminator 3 was at the top of the box office. George W. Bush Jnr was the President of the United States. 2003 was the Year of the Goat. It was the year of the completion of the Human Genome Project. Pixar released Finding Nemo. The U.S. led the invasion of Iraq. The Space Shuttle Columbia disintegrated as it entered Earth’s atmosphere. There was also the second-largest recorded Antarctic ozone hole. Wicked premiered on Broadway. Britney Spears and Madonna Kissed. The Tampa Bay Buccaneers won the Super Bowl. The Florida Marlins won the World Series. Michael Jordan played in his final NBA game. The fifth book of Harry Potter was released. Norah Jones won 5 Grammys. The United States was recovering from the early 2000s recession. And the global temperature was exceptionally high. 2003 was the third hottest year since 1861.
But also on the day of July 5, 2003, Ruby Ann Little was born. My mom always said I came into the world ready to go. Despite her best efforts to delay the very early and impending labor, I was born at 10:46am on Saturday, July 5, 2003. My parents’ firstborn. I was brought home from the local hospital to 3rd Ave in a small town in Montana, where my whole world, and what seemed like the only world there was, engulfed me like a hurricane.
I often find myself wondering what my life would’ve been like had I been born a month later on my due date. My dad wouldn’t have been camping with friends over the Fourth of July weekend, and he wouldn’t have been the last person to the hospital. And he certainly wouldn’t have been coming down from partying. Maybe it wouldn’t have been a scorching one hundred and three degrees Fahrenheit outside. Maybe my mom wouldn’t have gone to the local pool alone while in active labor because she was in denial. And maybe my dad wouldn’t have run to the bathroom with me fresh out of the womb to be in complete darkness so I could open my eyes for the first time. I wish I could remember that moment. It must have been magical. Have I really just been searching for that same feeling my whole life?
Now that you know far too much about me and my brain, welcome to a culmination of my innermost thoughts. I have always loved to write. I write for fun. It is my creative outlet. My therapy. But more important than that, I write for my passion of helping others. I am a social worker, and I have a lot to say. So here are some of my favorite brain crumbs.