We would
leave the burgeoning once backwoods of Virginia and go places and do things and
achieve more than the career military officer or FBI agent or FAA manager or GS
15 ranking that our fathers – fathers only because mothers were only just being
allowed to spread their wings – had
been content to be. We were actors and artists and writers and deep
soul-searching waifs with dreams of glory. The dreams were less of glory,
maybe. The dreams were more of…more.
We wanted
more because more would be better than just this. We were different. We were
special. We knew it individually and we knew it collectively. We would go out
and make a difference. We would wow the world when given the chance.
And now?
Decades
later, here we all are, ordinary. Oh, don’t take it so hard. It turns out there
isn’t really anything wrong with being ordinary. Or maybe what I mean to say is
that it turns out that we are all anything but ordinary. Those dreams we had
which fueled our souls let us make it to here, wherever here might be.
Me? I’m
content with my very blessed life of the ordinary. I never imagined I would be
content to just be me. Or content to be the “me” in “me and mine.”
Ordinary
turns out to be more than enough.
2 comments:
Agreed.
To paraphrase Dave Grohl, There goes my hero....She's ordinary!!
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