By Rebecca Witherspoon, January 31, 2023
“First I would dream it, then I’d plan it, then reality (aka challenges) would upend the dream … It seemed like I would forever bury all my dreams in the graveyard of regret. But then … !”
By Rebecca Witherspoon
When I was a kid, the world was my oyster. I was precocious, vivacious, passionate and creative. I was determined to travel the world and see all that it had to offer. I would pour over all the books and magazines about exotic and/or ancient locals, learn about the history of those places, and plan out itineraries to visit those places. Then I went to sleep one night and much like Rip Van Winkle the next time I woke up more than two decades had passed and I was divorced with two adolescent children, had never been out of the country, and was afraid of my own shadow. When did I stop being brave? When did I stop dreaming? It was time to take a look in the mirror and see just who I had become.
Through the years and decades of my life, there seemed to be a predictable pattern and timeline to all of my dreams and plans. First I would dream it, then I’d plan it, then reality (aka challenges) would upend the dream. In all but a very rare handful of exceptions, this is where my dreams would die. Oh, I would sometimes take a particularly fond dream out of its grave to stroke and attempt to resuscitate it by asking myself, “What if …?” But, it wouldn’t be long before that dream was safely tucked back into its protective grave. It seemed like I would forever bury all my dreams in the graveyard of regret. But then … !
To be continued …
Musings By Rebecca 