I like possibility.
I like the unknown. I like the idea of who I could be and what I could do with this life.
Maybe I’ll hit the road and never stop, my address rolling on four wheels. I’ll grow my hair long and wear long skirts and take on odd jobs as I bounce from town to town. Maybe I’ll dedicate my life to service and travel the world to help others.
Maybe years from now, after traveling the world, I’ll set up shop in a quiet beach town, never put on shoes again, and salt air will always be tangled in my hair. I’ll open a bookshop with big chairs for tourists and locals to snuggle into and read or listen to poets and authors read their work. My cousin’s kids will visit in the summer and run on the beach and learn how to count change at the cash register.
Maybe I’ll end up in Colorado, galloping across miles of my own land and ranching my days away. I’ll finally buy the Norwegian pygmy goats I’ve always loved and will have a huge Christmas tree every year. I’ll live in work boots and have five dogs of various sizes. My barn will be bigger than my house and will actually sparkle. I’ll build a business and be my own boss.
Maybe I’ll run away to the mountains, see what the big deal is about spring water hunting, and hide under the trees. I’ll chop wood, read hundreds of books at once, write bad poetry, and hike every day. I’ll only visit town twice a month and learn how to play an instrument.
Maybe I’ll rent a fantastic apartment, miles high above a busy city, rocking heels as I walk to the office, using my takeout coffee to fuel my skills as a boardroom beast. I’ll go to plays and gallery openings and dance until 4:00 in the morning at clubs, hopped up on fancy cocktails. New York, Las Vegas, Nashville, or maybe even London will be mine to explore and take over. I’ll try the latest diets and spin classes and use Sundays to drive outside of the city so I don’t forget what the stars look like.
Maybe I’ll make my life in my hometown and realize my dad’s dream of running a family-owned farm. Maybe I’ll become a pillar of the community and be involved in rotary and watch my kids walk in their caps and gowns across the same stage I did.
All these maybes waiting to become reality, all these stories waiting to unfold…and I can’t seem to pick one. Maybe what I really like about possibilities is that you don’t have to commit to any of it; there’s no failure or heartbreak sitting at home in your pajamas and daydreaming.
I love being the girl who is finding herself; I don’t know how to be the woman who found herself.
I remember doing homework in college and being so ready to take on the world. But, I really had no plan. I applied to jobs too early and didn’t know what I wanted to work toward and drifted until I hit something that felt solid enough to stand on. Translation: someone finally offered me a job. I figured if I just started walking on one path, my true purpose would fall from the sky and I would know where to go. But I’ve realized that creating a life doesn’t happen without actual decisions being made and chances being taken.
It’s a scary thing to realize this is all on me.
I’m trying to listen to my heart, but I can’t tell where my heart wants to go because it wants to go everywhere. Maybe I’ll just dream and dream, only to wake up one day, too old and too late.
Author: Jill Warwick
Image: Cristian Bortes/Flickr
Editor: Catherine Monkman
Copy Editor: Nicole Cameron
Social Editor: Waylon Lewis