"So much sacred in the month of June"

If there are a few things that I love about summer, they are open windows, my bronzed limbs engulfed by freshly washed linens, and many books eagerly waiting to be opened. True, I am most content when suffocated with hours of work to be done, still I possess the capacity to relish a few quiet hours to myself. While my eyes strain to indulge in each crafted word written, my mind soaks it all up as inspiration. And when the stories are no more and the characters have moved out of my life I am left to my own wandering and meandering through life. I wonder about tomorrow without appreciating today. I welcome each morning only in anticipation of the next. I almost let myself wonder why. I nearly ask out loud what the point is.

I remember a few years back when a friend told me he was going to sell his car, quit his job, and move in with his mother so he could focus on his writing. I laughed on the inside, immediately predicting failure. But now I wonder if he got it right. While I labor away to pay for school, all the while throwing my whole life into something I know isn't me, I just have to question myself. Starting over is the last thing that makes sense, but now is a better time than when I'm forty. I feel like I want to and need to take a chance for once. I can't always hide in the comfort of what I find to be familiar.

I spent my youth designing couture fashions for Barbie and her home. I used to sit for hours crafting the perfect floor plans for the modern day families dream home. In high school my afternoons were behind a pottery wheel until a janitor sent me on my way. When darkness fell I would sneak into the darkroom to develop random photos. My dedication to design went as far as hand sewing my own clothing creations. Babysitting money from my teen years was spent at the craft store so I could make my own jewelry. I don't do those things anymore. That makes me angry and a little bit sad too.

I remember one of my interior design teachers encouraging me to apply to design school because she thought I could make it. I only laughed, thanked her for her compliment, and explained my plans of being a legal mastermind and a business tycoon. All things which were and still are in my obtainable reach. So I guess I just smiled and walked away from my dreams, dismissing them as just that, childhood dreams that had no place in my big girl reality. And now I'm left with three years invested in something I'm almost sure I don't want. It's frustrating to know that I've pretty much set myself up for failure and disappointment. I'm not so certain that I even have a choice anymore. I guess I'll go on sketching handbags in vain, pretending that everything is okay since that's what I've always done best.