Or—
What Would I Do Instead?
Our neighborhood trusted
gas station/car repair shop has had the same sole owner for fifty years. I wasn’t
here to verify this, but so I’ve been told. For at least twenty, we’ve brought
all our cars to him and he has always been scrupulously honest. His loyal assistant
has been there for as long as I remember. Bridgeway Service
is venerated and loved by all who had experienced the decent way they conduct
their business.
A few years ago, I
got into a conversation with the owner, who told me he would love to retire.
What he really wanted to do was experiment making homemade barbecue sauce and
invite his neighbors to sample his ever-evolving creations on that front.
This stayed with
me, and every time I drive in to get gas or inflate my tires, I think of a
dream delayed when I see Steve, the owner, still at it.
At this stage of
my life, I have the privilege to be able to dedicate myself to doing what I most
want to. I write fictional stories for young readers almost every weekday. I
try to imagine what I would do if writing fiction became impossible. A few
notions float by on wispy clouds~~~~~
Run a cat rescue
Write movie reviews
Make biscotti from a family
recipe I improved
Those misty
billows evaporate as quickly as they appear. I could do any of the above, but
not every day or every week. This cements my feeling of gratitude. I’m lucky to
be where I am.
It also seems
unfair, as Steve from Bridgeway has worked harder all his life, and has earned
his right to make barbecue sauce full time. Life, really, isn’t fair.
Do you have any
dreams delayed you would be open to sharing? I wish you the vision to see
clearly the way to fulfilling those.
6 comments:
What w wonderful experience. My answer is that I would be writing. But I would also like to learn how to sing, dance and draw.
In case utopias casted over the past are accepted, I would become Rafa Nadal. If not, I will continue to coach and mentor young pianists, help them find their voice, their path.
Like you, I am immensely grateful that I get to do what I want to do--create fiber art in my fabulous studio by the ocean. Because I did not follow the path my mother wanted for me, I did not postpone what I preferred to do--adventure around the world, work at what interested me rather than what merely paid the bills. My father didn't have that luxury and worked all his life to support the family rather than fulfill any dreams he might have had, dreams he never shared with me, except that he had wanted a complete education, not just the few years before WW I broke out and ended any possibility of continuing. Too bad, too sad, because he was so smart.
Most people I know have deferred dreams. I am grateful to be living my dream--reading, writing, praying, singing, cooking, studying, just being.
It's not that I haven't gotten to do them, but only that I can't do them now because of the pandemic and I've missed them--my volunteer activities (at the day care, at the nursing home, at the church office, making wooden toys for needy kids, meals for the homeless,...)
I might have been happy supplementing my freelance writing with being a speech therapist and went back to university for post graduate studies. But I had trouble with the science prerequisites, especially statistics, and dropped out.
I thought about going into law because there's lots of writing and reading. Even if I had become a lawyer, I would've written novels on the side, like Scott Turow.
But neither of those careers were deferred dreams.
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