My Christmas Cactus is blooming! But, I’ll take it as a metaphor for life: It’s never too late to bloom! I’m a late bloomer! For as far back as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a published author. I can trace my dream back to this:
This is the book my grandfather wrote. From what I was told, he was a pretty darn good surgeon, but he had always wanted to be a writer too. Somehow between doctoring and being the father to five children, he managed to fulfill his dream. His one book, THE RESURRECTION OF THE R.K.7 RANCH was published in 1943. He died in 1954. It’s a sweet western love story. First line? “The sun shone with glaring intensity on a hot Arizona afternoon as a rider made his way slowly along the dimly outlined cattle trail in the bottom of a beautiful valley.”
Being his namesake, I’ve felt a connection to him (even though he died before my parents even met.) And a connection to this need/desire/urge/dream to write. I’ve always written. From stories in elementary school to poetry in high school. I dropped out of college for health reasons during my “normal” college years. I worked a few jobs, got married, moved across the country, became a military wife and then stay-at-home mom to our four kids. Sure, I dabbled with writing in between moves and diaper changes, but life was crazy and hectic during that time, so I put my dream of writing off to the side.
I finally decided to finish my degree and graduated from college five years ago. (Late bloomer!) Being back in school got me writing again. And I remembered how much I loved it, so three years ago I decided to stop messing around, stop just dreaming about becoming a published author and actually make it my goal. And I’ve been writing and learning and working like a woman on a mission since then. Because one day I want a book of mine to sit right next to my granddad’s on my bookshelf. That’s my dream.
*edited to fix typo