When I was a little girl, I used to dream of what I would be when I grew up. Its funny, really, how fascinated we are as children with the idea of one day being an adult. Then when we finally reach what we believe will be the pinnacle of our existence….adulthood…..we long for the sweeter times of childhood when much more in the world seemed good and we were naive to the battles adults must face each day. Even as an adult now, I often dream. However, the dreams are harder to believe in now that knowledge and experiences have tinted my rose colored glasses. All of those “Someday I’m going to” or “Someday I will” have turned in to “I wish I could” and “If only I were able to”s.
Why is it that once we reach a certain age, we stop believing? Is it right to do so? And what of that one dream that has stuck in your head, in the back tucked neatly into the furthest corner never to be fully pursued but always to be thought of? Will it ever surface or is it best to it neatly tucked away?
