Scene: A twelve year old girl is in the checkout line at a grocery store with her mother.
“Hey mom, who’s this?” The girl said, handing a fashion magazine to her mom with curiosity and a hint of admiration in her eyes.
“Oh lemme see dear. Oh, that’s a model. I’m not sure of her name, exactly.”
“Look Mama.” The young dreamer whispered breathlessly. “She’s so perfect.”
The smiling mother suddenly looked severe. She bent down and took the love of her life by the shoulders. Memories of her past floated up to the surface: The absent father of this true beauty, her constant infidelity, the hospital trips in high school due to anorexia, the comments on her weight from her own father. All of these memories came to to her mind and came through in her eyes and she said, “No sweetie. She’s not real.”
Confusion dawned on the girls face at first. And she suddenly broke into a grin. “Oh, so she’s like a movie character. She’s real, but not really like that in real life?”
A smile of relief and gratitude washed over the troubled woman as she hugged her daughter and said “Yes. Yes, baby. You’re so smart. I love your mind. I bet Einstein wishes he coulda had you as a wife.”
“Wife? Mama! Boys are gross. Plus Einstein was old and a science guy. I don’t do science.” She straightened up tall. “I’m going to be a writer.”
The mother who lost much in life prayed in gratitude of the second chance she received. Then she laughed and said “Of course you are! And you better address your first best seller to me dear!”
“Mama! What if I don’t make a best seller?”
“No what ifs!” And with that she attacked her daughter with tickle monster hands in the middle of the grocery store. Leaving her daughter gasping for breath and giggling, she said “We are dreamers my darling. Only the dreamers believe, therefore only the dreamers do. The ones who believe they can change the world will.”
Reflecting back on this regular day at a grocery store, the now grown up young girl starts to cry. Her mother passed away last Friday and Memory Lane seemed to continue to stretch down to a cemetery she had yet to come to. The funeral was this afternoon, and Annie was not only reflecting on her mother, but on her life as a whole. She had not become a writer. She was single, with two cats, and worked a nine to five job as a secretary. She had once believed in so much. The quote about being the dreamers came back with a sting.
Later that afternoon, she quit her job. She took out every cent of her savings and planned on looking into a mission trip to a Spanish speaking county. For if we do not dream, and help those who can not help themselves, are we not only serving money?