Sunday Stories

I spent a bit of time today remembering. Remembering all of the dreams I had when I was small. What I wanted to do. What I wanted to be. Sometimes I chuckled. Sometimes I wondered. Sometimes I was confounded at the completely different person I've grown up to be. Case in point: I wanted to be Miss America when I grew up. Really. Today I cry at the thought of getting up in front of people. Literally. Last year I left what I thought would be a simple choir practice in a panic of tears when the lady in charge told me I would be, "strolling to stage left and then back again while discussing such and such with sister so and so." I had not come prepared to play such a role. I completely fell apart and ended up not participating at all. Not my finest hour. My childhood all blurs together, but I can recall dreaming of being the Karate Kid. An olympic gymnast. An actress. A rock star. The first female NBA player [see, back then there was no WNBA so the dream was really far fetched]. An artist. An explorer. A writer. A poet. I remember making a few modifications to a tumbling leotard so that I would have the most unique + fashion forward swim suit at class swim day. I wanted to travel the world. I still do.