Recent events summon fond memories of dreams I once had...the Olympics and the death of Shirley Temple open the door to the past and invite me in for just a moment.
Hopes...stuffed in my snow suit, my white figure skates tied snugly against my ankles, I wobbled out onto the frozen pond in back of our house. In my 7-year old mind, the flooded corn field became the Olympic ice. As I glided across the "pond,", dodging the cornstalks that peeked through the ice, I imagined myself spinning and leaping in front of the Olympic crowd as they tossed roses to me for my outstanding performance. Of course, I won the gold.
Aspirations...If I wasn't going to the Olympics, maybe I'd make it as a dancer. The Good Ship Lollipop played in the background as I step-ball-changed across the stage. Decked out in my blue rouched leotard and flouncy sequenced skirt, I became a famous tap dancer that people from around the world clamored to see. I loved dancing! I imagined I grow up in a mirror-lined studio, practicing my pliés, twirling, and swaying to sweet, rhythmic music.
Alas...these dreams were not meant to be.
Yesterday, I chatted with my sister (who by the way danced to The Good Ship Lollipop with me), on her 50th birthday. She asked me if I had a hard time on my 50th (For me, 51 was actually harder than 50). We became introspective...time slips by so quickly.
Dreams come and go. Some are reached, while others remain just out of our grasp. If we're lucky, we might get a second chance at missed dreams. They propel us forward. They give us hope. Without our dreams, where would we be?
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for hosting Slice of Life Tuesdays. Please visit their site to read other slices and leave a comment. #slice2014