An Author’s Dream

Who would’ve thought someone as a young as six could wrap their heads around a future dream.

Some dreams are planted so early on, they take root within the heart, never to be removed. There are times though, you can remember the very moment they’re seeded.

I didn’t know my dream was waiting for me in my first-grade class. I’m 40 now and I still remember my teacher’s name till this very day. She had a way about educating, and I soaked in every last drop like a sponge.

One memorable afternoon, she brought in a box loaded with goodies. There were textured fabrics, feathers, buttons, cardboard, paper, yarn, which she piled on top of a table. Our curiosity was overflowing!

She told us to take five sheets of paper, and write a story. We could add illustrations with our choice of media.

She had us pick out our fabric, and whatever accessories we wanted for the book covers. With her help, after punching holes in the cardboard, we bound the books with yarn, and held in our very own hands, books of our own making. That was the day I knew I was going to be an author. I had no idea how or when, but I knew it would be so.

As an adult with life experience tucked away, I can finally say I’m an author, and it’s all because of one teacher so many years ago. She showed us possibilities, and isn’t that what we want for the next generation? Possibilities of what can be, of who we’re going to be. Possibilities of a meaningful life not yet tapped into. We are the makers of stories, especially of the ones we have not yet written for ourselves. And we have an opportunity to present possibilities to others, through the expression of words. Happy reading!