Changes

Change. We love it. We hate it. We crave it. We fear it. It's ever persistent in its onward movement. We can either roll with it or get wedged in a crack as it pounds over the top of us.

I had a chance encounter with a blast from my past last night while digging through an old briefcase of mine. I've had the thing for years. I use it to store wrapping paper, cards, glue, tape, scissors...anything I would need to use that involves gift giving.

Rooting through it I came across some zany cartoons that my best friend (back then) and I had drawn back and forth to each other. I sat on the edge of my bed and laughed leafing through the pages of our drawings. The year was 1993. I was 27 years old. It seems a life time ago.

Searching through a folder of the briefcase I found an old journal of mine entitled "Fall of 1993". It was a veritable time capsule. I lay back on my bed and read the words of my 27 year old self.

I discovered two things.

1. I've changed so much from that young 27 year old person.

2. I haven't changed at all.

It's a conflicting discovery, to be sure.

I still have the same dreams. Only 13 years later it seems a bit sad that not one of them has come true. I do, however, see progress during those years. Maybe that's what I need to focus on instead of the lack of end result. I do know it has set inside me a new resolve.

13 years from now when I happen across another journal from my 40th year of life I do not wish to read that not one dream of mine is still unfulfilled. I could not and will not tolerate that.

Haphazardkat