She Found It on a Notepad
She found it on a notepad that had somehow ended up in one of her moving boxes marked, “supplies.” It was a list of questions, or goals, in her mother’s handwriting. Reading them made her smile:
“How do I want my room to feel? Crisp, Calm, Reflective”
“How many times do I want to work out a week? Three”
“What do I want to learn? How to bake, how to become a buyer.”
“What do I want to improve? My goals”
“What are my goals? To pursue my dreams.”
The last of her mother’s list-of-thoughts made her feel a little sad. What were the dreams of her mother? She wasn’t sure if she had ever stopped to wonder. And did those dreams become lost among tomorrows that, overtime, became a yesterday? A yesterday that turned into a fond, but distant memory…something almost familiar, if it weren’t so unreal–so dream-like?
She remembered that she could sense, the other day, that the air was heavy and ponderous with the reflections of her mother. Something her mother said, not in any particular sort of way, made her realize that her mother’s dreams were not all realized. She was not sure how or why not–she just knew. But because she had addressed it, after maybe never coming to terms with it, she knew that her mother would know how to get back to her dreams.
She put the notepad down and realized something. Those dreams that were meant to be dreamed–the ones really meant to be pursued– never fade. When life becomes distorted with distractions, people forget to remember to dream; when life is filled with hardships and haste, people remember to forget their dreams. Even though they are lost sight of, they are not lost. Although they are out of focus, they do not disappear.
So she decided, for her mom’s birthday, she would let her know that she supported those dreams–she would help her realize those dreams. Because the dreams of her mother, she realized, would one day become the reflections of herself.