Dream a Little Dreamer

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My gaze met hers, and I found myself transfixed. I took in the determination, the uncompromising demandingness of her expression, and was surprised – I had no idea that I already possessed such stubbornness when I was little.

She looked at me as if to say Well? Have you done what we planned? Have you lived those dreams, played those games, danced those dances?

I felt smaller, a little defensive, as though I had been caught doing something not entirely acceptable; something not quite worthy of me. I stammered wordlessly that I had lived some of them, played some, danced some. Not many though. And not with my whole heart. Not lived, played, danced completely free, the way we dreamed I would.

I had let her down. And now she was looking at me (still) and her question was short, sweet, simple; and so inescapably obvious – What are you waiting for?

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