Dreams deferred

"Mom?"

"Yes."

"I remember this cello being much taller."

"Well, you haven't touched the thing in 5 years, dear."

"Yeah, but I think I want to start playing again."

"That's nice." I immediately begin to list in my mind all the alternative spaces where practicing might be done. I even consider the dog's kennel as the old dogs both seem hard of hearing these days.

"Mom?"

"Yes."

"I'll need a D string."

I started to think about all the things I wanted to be as a kid. An architect, an artist, a writer, a pediatrician, a ballerina, a cartoonist, a baker, a bookstore owner, for a brief period I even thought that accounting might be fun. I grew up, went to college, I tried being liberal for awhile, grew up some more and eventually at the ripe old age of 39 I became a mom.

My parents tolerated a lot from the seven of us. While growing up someone was always cooking, somebody else playing the piano, another playing guitar, both bathrooms were seldom just available. I remember siblings playing Hearts or Bridge, chess, playing war in the backyard, and fort building. Mom would send us out to pick a piece of fruit if we were hungry between meals.

We all dream, and it's wonderful when that opportunity to try new things is in a safe place.

I'll pick up that D string at the music store, and maybe I can swing by the art store for some watercolor paper too.