If you open up the kitchen curtains, the light filters through. It illuminates the whole downstairs area. The dining room table, where we used to joke and light candles before meals is there. But it’s empty now. The living room, where we would curl up and watch movies, soon will hold nothing but echoes of laughter and tears. The stairs, how many times have I stomped up and down those stairs, looking out the window each time? A life I longed for, slipping away. The room I used to sit in and write is now closed. Its full of bad memories now, how I boxed up my things, and it became off limits after that. Its closed, someone else’s things are in the places we used to sit. The balcony, our place of refuge, the conversations seemed to go on forever. We used to watch lightening storms and count the stars. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy than I was on those mornings we sat out there and drank our tea. With every cry of the tape closing the boxes, my heart cries too. My dream is gone. I lost my dream months ago, but it is now well and truly gone. Too many people have traipsed through this house that was supposed to be my home. I cannot remember a time before, when it felt safe. It doesn’t feel that way any longer. It feels tainted somehow. The air too warm, the stairs too cold. The kitchen window opens up onto someone else’s yard. Unkind eyes glance in and I pretend to be invisible. It is just a dream, a dream that I held in my hand for all but five minutes before it was taken from me. I’m starting to understand that when it got far too hot for my hand to hold onto, I put it down on the ground, just for minute and it was gone.
I cannot let anger and disappointment cloud such a precious time in my life. I do not regret it and it was not a mistake. It was a lesson and it only made me fiercer. I am now more certain of who I am and what I want out of life. I have not failed, I have only learned. So my heart may still feel heavy at times, but I am grateful for the experience. I am grateful for the tears falling on my pillow all those nights. I am thankful for the support I received, and the hands that held onto me when all I wanted was to fall. I am grateful for it all. If I could go back, sure I would have tried harder, but maybe I wasn’t who I am now. And that’s ok. I have a new dream now; it is more solid and exciting. My dream involves development and self-improvement. My dream needs me to know who I am, and asks that I work on myself.
It might have been a dream, but it was my dream. And at some point it meant the world to me, and I had to learn that life happens. I had to learn that we have to work hard every single day to attain and maintain the things we want. I had to learn that love conquers all. I had to learn to forgive. And I have, and I will. It was my dream, but I have a new one now.