In Seven Years

In Seven Years, I will be the same age she was went she left me.

The same age when cancer struck quite suddenly ~ the earliest signs showing up mere weeks after I returned from my dream trip to New York ~ the trip she and Dad so generously made happen for me.

I think about her and how young she died.  How much living she had left to do.  I wonder what else she had planned for her life.  What remaining dreams she had yet to fill.

I think about the possibility that I could die young, too.

I think about my dreams unfilled.

And realize how tired I am of my dreams being on hold.

Where will I be in seven years?

Will my life be completely the same?

Will I still keep reaching for the same dreams?

I am fairly content with my life, but a spark flickered within me once I started the writing blog.

My second story "Dreams" revealed my childhood dream of being a writer living in New York City.

Is it possible to finally live my dream?

Mama believed in my dreams.  

Dad believed in my dreams.

They sent me to New York in the Summer of 1993.

It's time to go back.

 

Summer of 1993



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