When we are very young, our dreams are fleeting, changeable, dependent upon what has most recently caught our attention – “when I grow up, I’m going to be . . . a fireman, a doctor, a nurse, an actor, a singer, a super hero”. Our parents smile, give us a hug, and say “that’s nice dear”. When they are feeling we need a boost to our confidence, or they need a reminder that anything is possible, they might say “you can be anything you want if you work for it”.
Our dreams loom large, and shine brightly. Our dreams could fill books. As we grow older, into those teenage years, we may not share those dreams so widely. We might keep them close to our hearts, or share them only with our best friends. We might share them only with our diaries, our journals. Each year that passes, it seems there are more options available to us in many ways, more choices. Or it may seem there are fewer options, fewer choices. Options, choices, what we can see in our futures – our dreams – are influenced by many things outside ourselves. But they are also influenced heavily by our choices, our determination, our beliefs, our family support. And sometimes – just sometimes – by the forces of nature, beyond our control. By happenstance (a word my dictionary does not show, but is implanted firmly in my mind as being an instance that just happens).
As we grow older, our dreams morph, they may grow smaller or larger, we may have dreams that are partially filled, completely filled, or filled not at all. We may find the dream that was so important to us in years past is not at all important now. The older we grow, the more we are willing to compromise, to accept, sometimes to realize that, although we may not have gone where we intended to go, we have ended up where we intended to be. Or where we are happy to be.
The flame may still shine brightly in the depths of our hearts and souls, but it does not shine as brightly on the world around us. What could now fill books, what now brings light to our hearts, are the memories we have built, the loved ones we have grown close to, the goodness in our lives, the difficulties of our lives, those battles fought and won, those battles fought but that could not be won. Some days, the flame grows dim, some days life feels too heavy, too hard to deal with. Some days we just want to hide, to curl up in our corners, to not be part of the world. For a little while. For this day. We want to pull away.
And then, dawn comes, one more time, and we look at the sky. We see the delicate, pastel-colored clouds drifting through, the bright sliver of the moon – smiling at us, shining on us, bringing with it a sense of continuation, a sense of it all being okay – perhaps not perfect, perhaps not easy, but okay. We can go on. We can smile.
We can remember that flame – those dreams of yesteryear and tomorrow.
Just by happenstance, I have come inside from the gardening I am doing, to have a bite to eat, and I came across your latest post Carol. I will ponder your words as I continue my gardening, and know that what I have is perhaps not exactly what I had planned, but it is where I am meant to be, and I am happy with that thought. I hope you are happy too, my friend. 🙂
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This is beautiful, Carol.
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Carol – It was very soothing to read this post with my cuppa tea this morning.
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The photos you included with your beautiful thoughts were wonderful. I loved the flame in the dark. I have just returned from my first (of many) college tours with my daughter. She is still in the dreaming stage of what is possible- although she has narrowed her choices down to more realistic ones. As parents,we encourage our kids to try things, to explore, to dream; but then it comes down to choosing a direction to go in and that usually is trial and error. As you say, happenstance is how she will probably shape her future. Sometimes the most unexpected circumstances can change the whole plan. At least the flame is there as well as the family support.
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Grateful for the dawn, dreams fulfilled, and unfulfilled. Wishing you a day as lovely and comforting as this post.
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Beautiful Carol. I thnk the constant of a beautiful dawn is what keeps hope alive.
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So well said, Carol.
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Words so true.
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Wow. Carol, this is an amazing post. There was such a sense of calm when I read it. I think I’ll read it many more times. Truly beautiful words.
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So beautifully said Carol. And written. I wish everyone could read this and be as moved as I have been…….
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It’s raken me several minutes to even write thank you. Seeing double through tears.
Someimes gentle reminders come from the most beautiful peope.
Thank you so much Caro l~BB
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I know the truth of this. Very eloquently said, Carol.
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This feels so very poignant at this point in my life, Carol. I’m at an age many might call “midlife”, (although I hope I’m less than halfway there), and I often struggle with a lot of what you mention here. I question choices I made in the past, wonder what the future will bring, hope that I’ve made enough good decisions as my daughters embark on young adulthood.
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I understand about that flame, Carol. Burning with you…
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