Coffee Shop Dream Collector
By Laura Mills
I’m sitting in my favorite coffee shop, but only because no one showed up to class today. These days I hardly ever find myself sitting with only writing to do for an hour or so—case in point: my last blog post was mid-January. Between teaching (when people come, which thankfully is most of the time), mommy-ing, and attempting to rebuild my life after last year’s changes, sitting in a coffee shop, writing, is an artifact of a time long past. Yet here I am today, because no one showed up to class.
Ten years ago this would have been me every day. I hadn’t yet found yoga or hadn’t yet adopted my daughter, and I had left my job as a high school science teacher to pursue my then-dream job of writing. And I even achieved moderate success: I published essays and articles in magazines and newspapers, and I wrote two complete children’s novels and submitted them to publishers. Of course there were the many rejections—including both novels—and the other frustrations, too. But I still felt I had found a “pot of gold” as I worked at what I loved.
I never would have guessed that THIS version of me would be the one sitting in a coffee shop, writing, ten years later.... The yoga, the yoga teaching, the long wait to adopt, the parenthood, the un-asked-for divorce—ten years of joyous highs and devastating lows color the experience of the me who sits here now. Sitting here now because, ironically, my current “pot of gold” didn’t require me today. The glide of the paper below my hand, the cold of the pen in my fingers, the smell of the coffee—these things light up the corners of my being and reveal that I haven’t abandoned my old dream. Instead I’ve built upon it, continuously creating new dreams day by day and moment by moment as life has evolved. And really, even with the lows mixed in among the highs, that’s pretty cool.
I guess as time goes by, with the pursuit of our own dreams and the effects of others’ dreams, we all become more colorful. Which makes sense…isn’t it always a rainbow that leads to the “pot of gold,” after all?