I'm not sure when it was that we grew up, but the girls told me we did.
I guess we did. After all, I am married, right?
But if we grew up, then what happened to the dreams we dreamed for our lives?
We should all be married and having children the way we planned, but I'm the only one married in the group, and I really don't know if I want children anymore. Who cares about children! I'm happy with my husband! But I wish the girls were too - happy with husbands. Why are things not working the way we planned? We were all going to get married on the same day, remember? One in the morning, another in the afternoon, and the other in the evening.
And as for me, I don't know where my brains were when I got into teaching little kids how to read. This was the last thing I wanted in my life. I wanted to be a housewife (and a writer in my spare time). How did I get here - teaching school kids to read and write?
When did we mess up our perfectly dreamed up lives and got stuck with the lives of the grownups we tried so hard to be different from? It's just that when we are teenagers everything looks so perfect ahead of us. And then life gets in the way. "Well," says the poet, "we did want, after all, to be happy, but there aren't ways to return anymore ... and what has life done to our lives?"
There aren't ways to return?! Hold on a second! Says who I have to stay here? I got married like I always dreamed of, didn't I? Why should I give up on my other dreams? It's true I can't be a housewife anymore. My husband's income is not enough to support the lifestyle we chose. But I won't end my days as a school teacher just to support my lifestyle. I don't want to hate my job just so I can enjoy my vacations. I'll get into translation, accounting, administration, or even teaching, but teaching grownups. I will do anything that I actually enjoy and make that my career.
I'm glad I remembered I wanted to be a writer as well. I am not sure when I forgot about it. I guess I forgot about it because I eventually had to pay my bills and, even as a teenager, I knew writers don't usually pay their bills with the money they get from their books.
But why did I forget I wanted to see my work published nonetheless? Not for fame or money, but for my own joy. I am working on a new book right now. The Little Girl From yesterday,which is about the Beatles, is ok, and I know it was a favorite in my school when I wrote it, but I was a middle school kid then. My writing has gotten much better since, and I can come up with better plots. Why did I really publish "the Little Girl..."? For one, I hope I can get a copy to Paul McCartney someday _ a dream I've had since I wrote the book in Portuguese. After all I only wrote it because of him. But also because "the little girl from yesterday" is the first story I ever wrote and I just wanted to see my book published just like the ones the teachers had us read. It was another dream I had forgotten about.
I don't want to forget about my dreams anymore. I don't want to wake up old some day and realize I left most of my dreams behind. And " there aren't ways to return anymore".