One Saturday afternoon, the television was tuned to a video marathon of R&B tunes from the mid 1980s and early 1990s. Just the backdrop I love, as I put some TLC in my home.
As I swept, mopped and dusted, I crooned out the lyrics to songs from artists, such as Anita Baker, Luther Vandross and Teddy Pendergrass. Memories began to flood my mind. Howard University 1985: Club Philly meeting about South Africa Apartheid; February 1989: at my father’s bedside in his last moments; September 1992: my baby girl is born.
For the most part, these memories bring me smiles. Then, as I looked back in my mind’s eye at the woman I used to be, I had an epiphany: I am not that woman anymore. It is not simply a matter of maturation. It is a fundamental shift in WHO I AM.
Sure, many of the values I had in my twenties remain today: integrity, commitment to justice, and love for family. Now, my hopes and dreams are so different. Once I dreamed of forever and ever love. Now I dream of loving higher and higher versions of myself.
If someone was to knock on my door today, and announce that I could realize all the dreams of the woman I was at 28 years old, my reply would be, “No thank you, that woman does not live here anymore.”
Tell me. What would you say to an offer of realizing your dreams of long ago?
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