“My dreams?” you ask my child self. “Why I shall become a vet and take care of all the animals in the world or maybe a princess secretly overseeing startling new inventions that will feed the hungry and bring war to an end!”
I set off blithely in expectation, but sadly as I grow my dreams shrink. Vets need years of schooling and grade levels I don’t have and I must finally come to terms that I am not really a princess, besides interests change!
Instead I shall find a glorious man to love, strong, kind and honorable. I shall devote my life to treasuring and upholding him. I set off on my quest at once, but find all the available applicants sadly unqualified for the task – they all turn out to be human like me.
So sorting through discarded dreams like rifling through old photos of past times dimmed and tinted by age, I ask myself “what remains of my dreams?”
Then I find to my surprise a treasure trove beneath the scattered pictures, like jewels of dust fallen from past images to the floor beneath. Things unvalued as yet but greater in their simplicity than a hundred achievements, riches gathering through the years. It is not what I have achieved but what I have become that is important, for from the mud that clung to my feet in my many painful wadings (encompassing seeds I was unaware of) have sprung flowers of wisdom leaving their trail through my life, blossoms others have picked and treasured. Did I find my dreams? No, not one, but my dreams found me it seems.