Memory Lane: Dreamer.
I realize now that despite growing up, losing myself, venturing into different passions, it all lead me back here, back to where it started…"
When you’re a child, you dream of the many things you wish to become as an adult. A dancer, a chef, an astronaut, a nurse… I wanted to be a librarian, among other things.
I remember getting so excited about buying my next scholastic book and rushing home, just so I could line them up on my bed and create my very own library/book fair. I would put on my dad’s reading glasses and throw on his blazer and clip my hair up, opening the doors to my very own customers, who happened to be my family. With monopoly cash in hand, they would all step inside and look through my selections, which were categorized by genre. At first, I didn’t know what that even meant but my oldest brother, William explained it to me and eventually I got the hang of it. Most of the books were his too, he was much older than I was, about six years older to be exact, so his reading level was greater than mine. As my “customers” made their way back and forth along the shelf (my bed) I watched in anticipation hoping they’d make a purchase, wondering what type of literary adventure they were willing to embark on. As my mind wandered, my first “customer” approached, my mom. She had picked out a comic book that my brothers and I had made together, explaining how it was her favorite story to read, handing the monopoly cash over to me with a smile. I gave her a discount considering she was such a fan and about an hour later, I was done. Four total sales and $25 in monopoly cash didn’t mean much in the real world but for me, it was the equivalent of one of the best days I can remember.
As I got older, I realized that my passion for books was more about the stories that inspired the readers, rather than selling the books. And my dream of becoming a librarian, blossomed into a dream to become a writer. Eighteen years later here I stand, working towards that very dream that has lived since I was a child. Remembering each and every skit, story, play, song, lyric, poem that I’ve ever written, well most of them anyway. I realize now that despite growing up, losing myself, venturing into different passions, it all lead me back here, back to where it started… back to the memory of that little girl who realized she wanted to become a writer so she can tell stories to the world that would inspire or entertain them. I am a writer, that much can be sure, what happens after I tell my story, well I guess we’ll have to wait and see.