on being a daydreamer

As a girl I chased my dreams around the big grassy hills on Jackson Road.  I heard them in the waves that rolled onto the coastline.  While reading books like “Dicey’s Song” I befriended the main characters and went on their adventures with them. 

I used to dream about my husband.  It was never a question of who he was as silly as that sounds because even when I was in the single digits of age…I knew it was Ken.  I knew he would be tall and strong, that he would have dark hair and want as many children as I did.  I knew he would love it when I baked bread and wore an apron, that he would sing silly songs to make our children laugh.  I never doubted any of that.

The one thing I never daydreamed about was the middle aged years.  I knew our children would grow but I never thought about it—there’s a difference there.  Each day I wake up is a little tiny bit different than the previous, though when I wake the first thing I do is change a diaper which has been the case for  just about all of the past 20+ years. I like it this way!  What will I do when Sawyer is potty trained and can get his own breakfast?  I guess I will sleep in a bit.  And I guess when Ken’s career slows down we will spend more time together and find out even more about each other.  That thought makes me happy.

I still feel like that child with the dreams.  I hold Ken’s hand with the same sense of awe I did when we were first married.  I remember having to call him my husband those first years of our marriage and how it always made me laugh.

Now we are grown adults and that makes me laugh equally as much.  We have a mortgage and pay for our kids college instead of our own.  All those little changes each day have added up to some pretty big ones over the years. 

Still, he is the person I daydream about.