I haven’t had many visions of my future, really.
What I mean is that some people spend a lot of time burning best case scenarios into the soft balsa of their brains/images of what they are going to be doing in 10 or 20 years/little mind sketches of what they are going to look like someday: their well-manicured head flipped casually back as they share an educated laugh with their fabulous friends, standing on their McMansion deck, overlooking the lake of their big, dumb dreams.
Not me, boss.
I used most of my youthful imagination up trying to figure out ways to steal as much heavy silver change from my mom’s pocketbook as possible. I was a nine year old junkie; a husky varmint with a deep dark baseball card problem.Later, my interests branched out a bit, but in all honesty there was little in the way of futuristic planning. There were crisp detailed images of mugs of beer. And there was like an entire warehouse full of risque Cate Blanchett pics. (Dude!)
Big fat fish.
Bikini-clad pasty British chicks riding bareback on the dorsal fin of a 30-pound largemouth bass across glassy ponds of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.
I had my visions and my little plans, but they weren’t all that…practical.
There were no real plans or hopes or anything valuable or useful, you know? There wasn’t even much in the way of dreams, I guess. I mostly thought about the next 10 or 15 minutes and that was enough to keep me going.
Yet, there was one thing. Growing up, no matter what phase I was going through, no matter who I was at any given moment, I was always in love with one thing for sure.
I was always in love with books, with reading. From the time I was a minute old, I was reading something. And funny enough, for the last decade and a half I have often imagined what it would be like to have a child who loved to read too. The faint possibility of someday being able to share a real love of books with a little kid excited me long before there were an kids to do it with. It sparked something in me, I think. It inspired me to actually get real for once and to envision a future; a future with someone else in it forever.
Anyway, my dream, albeit not the biggest one a fellow has ever dreamed up, it’s coming true. And that counts for something, huh? That’s a bit of magic I never thought I was going to really experience, you know what I mean? And it’s making me maybe happier than anything has ever made me before.
Seriously. Because, if you ask me, kids who dig books have a real good chance at growing up to be adults who dig books/ who burrow down in novels or whatever, and who inevitably carry some priceless chunk of wisdom or empathy or something equally as big and beautiful away from every single time they come to ‘The End’…those are the kids whose life might be the richest and the greatest.
And I’m not talking about money at all.
Nothing fancy, really.
But still, in it’s own sweet way: it’s one of the most two or three most amazing moments of my entire life so far.
You can also find Serge on his personal blog, Thunder Pie.
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