I had someone ask today what dream I most look forward to coming true in my life. I really had to stop and think about it for a while. I guess it must be a sign that I’m growing up when I don’t think of my dreams as much as I used to. Or maybe it’s just a sign that I’m really happy and fulfilled. I’d like to think it’s the second of the two but sometimes I worry that maybe I don’t dream as often as I used to for fear that if it doesn’t come true, the disappointment is worse. If I’m honest at this point in my life I really only have one “dream” and that is to eventually get married. I’m not someone who talks about my singleness often because I don’t want to perpetuate the stereotype of the single girl in her 30’s who feels incomplete without someone to spend her life with. To be completely honest, I think my life is a lot more fulfilled than it ever would’ve been had I gotten married younger like I always assumed I would. My relationships are stronger, my independence is healthier and also there’s that awesome cat I have. (Really everyone’s life would be a little more complete if they had a little Helena in their lives.)
I guess my question is though, at what age does one stop dreaming? Especially about those things so out of our control. Or is that something we should never outgrow? I lean towards never outgrowing it, but there’s such a fine line between too many dreams and too little reality. And vice versa I suppose.
Can someone take a year long break from blogging and then just come back and pretend like they never stopped? I think that’s easier than making excuses for why I didn’t write. Sometimes it’s a lot to just live our stories and it’s too painful at times to talk about them. 2009 was that year. Sometimes brokenness calls for change so I changed. Jobs and apartments and state lines. 2010 didn’t start out much better, but I guess somehow I was. Better I mean. Or more realistic about life. When it comes down to it the one thing I’ve realized about myself more than anything else is that my story is to simply love. Whether that’s loving through others ‘ joy or pain, or cancer or loss, or peace or laughter, I want my love to fill in all the spaces and all the air that I can’t fill with words. I guess that’s a dream I’m ok with keeping around.
And Helena. I think I’ll keep her around too.
I guess my question is though, at what age does one stop dreaming? Especially about those things so out of our control. Or is that something we should never outgrow? I lean towards never outgrowing it, but there’s such a fine line between too many dreams and too little reality. And vice versa I suppose.
Can someone take a year long break from blogging and then just come back and pretend like they never stopped? I think that’s easier than making excuses for why I didn’t write. Sometimes it’s a lot to just live our stories and it’s too painful at times to talk about them. 2009 was that year. Sometimes brokenness calls for change so I changed. Jobs and apartments and state lines. 2010 didn’t start out much better, but I guess somehow I was. Better I mean. Or more realistic about life. When it comes down to it the one thing I’ve realized about myself more than anything else is that my story is to simply love. Whether that’s loving through others ‘ joy or pain, or cancer or loss, or peace or laughter, I want my love to fill in all the spaces and all the air that I can’t fill with words. I guess that’s a dream I’m ok with keeping around.
And Helena. I think I’ll keep her around too.
1 Comments:
I don't think I've ever been so happy to have someone back to blogging. Actually, this made me cry. A lot. At my desk. At work. Again.
I think when we stop dreaming, we stop living. Dreaming is our way of always looking for the "next." they don't have to be big dreams, or life-changing dreams, but I refuse to stop believing in the extraordinary, the magical, and the dreamer.
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