I’m living the dream, even though not as originally imagined. When I was younger, I was certain life wasn’t going to happen where I was living. I set my sights on the horizon thinking I would sketch in the details when I got there.
I left home at 19 years of age and with dreams of living life to its fullest. I carefully planned on where, when, and how I would leave my small town. I worked a year to save the requisite amount of money for first, last and deposit towards my share of a three-bedroom apartment in the Bay Area.
Sure there was a boy involved and several jobs, various college classes, three cities, lots of new people, and plenty of poor choices. To be honest, I spent a decade trying to find myself—although, that is not what I would have called it at the time.
When I moved back, I did so to regroup and reconnect. I landed a job within a week of parking in my parent’s driveway. I spent eight months living, working and catching up with family and old friends. I enjoyed the change in scenery and details. However, I started to question whether my dream of life would ever be fulfilled.
One day I was presented with the opportunity to move to a new city. I eagerly pushed that door open looking for my elusive life. I took the new position, packed my car and drove for hours towards my dreams.
Sure there are now three boys involved, another great job, homework of a different kind, special education meetings, karate classes, swim lessons and so much more.
It’s obvious to me now that I was waiting for my life to begin. Who would have expected that I would come to live life to the fullest right where I am? I hope all my notes are legible.—
Sent from my iPad