This Dream Of Mine...

Everyone has an aspiration they are willing to pursue; one that would never fade away for as long as time continues. Time is all one needs to pursue dreams. Five years ago...I had a dream. No, it was not a dream that was easily produced. It was not a dream that had minor impact to my current lifestyle. For this dream had shown itself to be distinct. Distinct from everything I’ve ever dreamed of. This dream of mine holds great power over me. The great power I’ve once’s harnessed was converted to a aflame passion. All dreams have beginnings. And mine began like this...

People come and go, it’s sad, but true. As much as I wish I could deny this statement, I’ve experienced this myself. I’m not going to contradict myself in a saying that I do not like conforming with. My family is an essential part of my life. I live with my father and my younger sister. I have a close bond with them that could never be replaced. My father has always given me the best advice. The majority of his advice relies on the topic of: passion. He’s always emphasized the important of passion and how to pursue it. My younger sister closely listened to his advice and followed it. She’s figured out that she wants to become a doctor. I, for one, think the passion sounds amazing but difficult and very time consuming. After learning about her passion, she confided in my father with her passion. My father reacted positively to her news. In this very moment, I feel lost. I feel useless and have a feeling of angst. My sister had everything planned out while I had trouble conforming to a passion. I didn’t want to disappoint my father after everything we’ve been through. I distanced myself from everyone and went somewhere secluded. I remember running off into the dark, starry sky. My feeling of anxiousness had climaxed. With this, I take in my surroundings. I look up, paying close attention to the sky. I imagine myself in a couple of years. I end up thinking, “How is this sky going to look like in a couple of years?” Am I ever going to be content with the life I choose in the future. I sure hope I did. Every time I looked at the night sky, like the one on this day, I hoped to have a meaningful lifestyle to it. My dad sees me outside, staring at the sky. He sits right beside me. He looks at the starry, cloudy sky with me. He asks me, “what was going on in there?” I direct my head down and stare at the floor. I was speechless. I had nothing to say to him. I was in fear of communicating my doubts to him. After all, he was the only parent figure I had left. My dad notes my silence to his question. He positions his eyes to the moon. He notices the full and bright moon. He tells me, “Listen, I know you were feeling anxious. I don’t know your motive but know that I’ll always be here for you.” Tears begin swelling up in my eyes. I feel a sense of sadness sweep over me. Tears begin slowly falling down while simultaneously showing their shine. My father points to the moon and says in a comforting manner, “See the moon and clouds? The moon is shining bright today but the clouds are covering them.” I look up at the moon and feel the moonlight shine on my face. My dad continues, “You’re the moon in this situation. The clouds are your obstacles. The moon has the clouds covering it.” I look up at the moon and take in his words. I see the clouds cover the moon. My father says, “Even though the moon is covered by the clouds...the moon will always be visible to me because of its moonlight. The moonlight is what makes the moon shine, just like you.” I smile at the moon and look back to my dad. We both stay silent for a minute admiring the moon’s presence on this beautiful night. Eventually, he gets up and leaves me alone with my thoughts. I thought his message was inspirational. Even if I don’t end up doing something practical, my value is seen as the same. Finding my passion was a true obstacle of mine. But my dad reminded me that no matter what I’ll always shine to him in the greatest ways. I knew I had to innovate. And that’s what I did...for the next year.

It’s been a year since I’ve had that realization in the night. So far, I’ve had no luck in finding my passion. I feel hopeless, I didn’t like how I couldn’t find something appealing to me. I often grew bored of trying new activities like painting and cooking. My dad notices my dilemma and hands me a book. The book I have in my hands had no title. I ask my dad, “what is this?” And he responds with, “It’s a book. I think you should read it.” I read the book immediately. The book is fairly long so it takes me a couple of days to captivate each moment. After reading the book, I end up falling in love with the message it portrays. I liked how the author used certain diction and syntax to emphasize the meaning of the novel. I finally knew what I wanted to knew. It was a matter of time before my flame for passion would spread. After my enlightenment, I end up telling my dad and sister. They both feel genuinely happy for me and my passion. With the help of my father, I end up getting a head start on my journey. This dream of mine was to become a writer. It all made sense to me now. Words appealed to me in the slightest ways. To get a start on my dream, I had to think of something that would set me apart from others. In other words, I had to come to terms of what writing actually means to me. This question was a question that couldn’t be answered easily. I knew I had to dig deep. I looked back to my father’s words on that very night. I heard his voice in the back of my head. It repeated. Finding the absolute meaning of writing actually took me a week to produce. I remember that day so well. That morning I woke up early and decided to look through my personal property. I look towards the shelf and see something catch my eye. A letter I had made when I was younger. It was not just any letter; it was one I made specifically for my mom. I reach for the letter and grasp it. I view the cover and take in the design I made. I open the letter and read it. I end up feeling emotional and cry. One phrase stood out to me. The phrase read, “I love my mommy because she’s always there for me when I need her.” Knowing that my mother passed away a month after the letter was written, I couldn’t help it. I missed my mother. Life wasn’t the same without her. I end up thinking that this was fate. It was fate for me to see the letter I made years later. This letter spoke to me in a way that no other piece of literature could. My mother gave me enjoyable memories. She took care of me. But most importantly, she gave me a life. I knew what I had to do. 

I now know what writing means to me now. It’s a platform that can be used to express yourself in different settings. This was crucial to me because my mother was someone who was close to me. I wanted to make her proud. I want her to watch me from the sky and know that I’ll be ok. I obtain a journal and begin writing words. I feel a sense of inspiration father through my mind. I feel words pour out my head and go through paper. Is this what writing felt like? I felt powerful. The words I wrote weren’t just any words, it was the beginning of a new chapter. One that would expose me to new horizons. The journey of writing. 

I wrote for hours. I didn’t mind the time. I kept writing as much as I could. I never felt like this before. I never felt passionate about something that could keep my head up by day and night. Whatever this feeling was...I liked it. I spend weeks writing a story in my journal. Countless hours and days passed by. Writing a story was exciting! I finish up my book prepared to present it to my family. I was so excited that I decided to call my family into the living room. I gather my book and the process it took to write it. I tell my family that I had successfully completed a book, one that I felt proud of. My sister and dad have enthusiasm written all over their faces. Just as I’m about to present my book...my dad’s expression changes. I notice that he’s struggling to breathe air. I’m immediately shocked and notice him fall to the ground. My little sister becomes frightened of the situation. I, on the other hand, couldn’t process what was going on. I was staring at my dad for one full minute before knowing what to do. My sister who reacted immediately picked up the phone to call the ambulance. The ambulance ride had a scary feeling. My mind was blank and I couldn’t imagine what would happen.

Arriving to the hospital, my sister and I wait in the waiting room for what feels like hours. Suddenly, a doctor walks in and directs us to him. He tells us that...our father passed away. I couldn’t believe it! My only parent I had left in this planet was taken away from me. Worst part is I couldn’t show him what I worked hardly on for the past weeks. I hear my little sister crying. It hurt me to see her cry. We loved our dad very much. He was someone in our life that couldn’t be replaced. This event spoke to me. I had to be strong. I had to be strong for the remainder of our family. I couldn’t see my little sister in pain anymore. I wanted to see her happy. I assured her that everything would be ok. I let her know that we’ll be strong together. 

I learned that life has to move on, even after a tragedy. Because I’m a 16 year old, I’m still considered a minor. My sister and I had to move in with my aunt. Once my aunt heard the news about her brother, she started mourning over him. My aunt isn’t financially stable. I hated seeing my aunt struggle in life. Other than her struggle, I feel grateful that she happily took us in. Even though she took us in, I felt the urge to help her. I couldn’t leave her with an immense responsibility. That is why I promised her that I would work. I would work and go to school. Once I told my aunt this, she was in a state of shock. She reassured me that everything will be good, in terms of finance. I didn’t believe her. I insisted in working and helping her pay for necessities. One of those “necessities” meaning my father’s funeral. After pestering her with my words, she finally agreed. She was thankful that I decided to step up in this situation. What I didn’t realize at the time was...I had to give up my one true passion: writing. Because of my schedule changes, I would have no room for writing. I had to give it up. It was not a choice, it was a requirement. I’ll return to writing, if it was meant to be. Someday. But for now I have to stay strong for the remainder of my family. 

I managed to be successful in both working and attending school. Two years pass by and I’m suddenly graduating. An overwhelming sense of excitement passes over me. I chant to myself, “I did it.” Over and over again. I managed to make enough money to keep us stable for each month. I felt honored to be able to keep my family up in their toes. During these past few years, I don’t regret any of my choices. I’ve experienced my fair share of the good and the bad. The only thing I could say now is that it was worth it. As I walk up the stage to receive my diploma, I face my family and smile while also noting about the memories I’ve made. I receive my diploma proudly and reminisce about the memories I’ve had about writing. I still stand with the same ideas I’ve had when I’ve started writing. This dream of mine...it could be continued! A few hours pass by and suddenly the day is close to ending. I decide to run outside and see the sunrise. As I run, I feel the strong breeze and the trees bristling slowly. The wind blows through my hair and I look directly at the sunset. I reminisce about my life. I imagine my future. I paint my future to be very vivid and bold. I whisper to myself, “I know what I want.” A sense of inspiration flows through my head. I run inside and grab my journal. I run back outside and position myself down. As I’m about to write, I read my old writing piece. The piece spoke to me. I remember being excited about something I loved. I wanted to share my passion with the world. I begin writing on a new page. I write the title, “This Dream of Mine...” 

I loved returning back to my craft. Writing was something I’ve needed these past few years. Losing my parents was difficult for me to cope with. I wonder how much writing would have helped me with this situation. I see writing as a way to communicate with myself; one that I could always find my way back home. Expressing my emotions for the past few years made me feel powerful and relieved. I admired every single feeling writing gave me. It took me time to realize that writing was a gift given to me. And with that, I should seize my moment. I know I could do whatever I wanted to do. Because I always know...I’ll have my parents’ support. They’ll always look after me even through my greatest achievements. After all “This Dream of Mine...” said...