I Have a Dream

Years ago, people dedicated themselves to putting family first. To whole heartedly declaring until death do us part. To working hard at relationships that were built to last. To commitment.

But this is no longer the case. Years ago, a minority of people started to utilize the option of divorce. Years later this became a common practice. Years that put the importance of being a family on the back burner. No longer could all children claim their parents loved each other. No longer could their parents pretend the children were wrong about that. Marriage, and family, no longer involved commitment.

Sometimes divorce is the only option. But it was never intended to be an easy way out for people. People who are so afflicted by a society that tells them to keep upgrading, they do just that. Decide to trade in the old faithful for a new, shiny model that might last a few years, at most. People need to re-prioritize. I am tired of feeling left behind and torn apart. I am tired of wondering how many sons and daughters are fighting for the attention they deserve from their preoccupied parents. I am tired of wondering if things can get better.

I have a dream, that families will exist again as the majority. That kids will know, once upon a time, there was such a thing as true love. That Mommy and Daddy put them first. I have a dream. A dream that is dictated by family road trips and embarrassing reunions. A dream that is provoked by the bitter lust for those simple pleasures. A dream that is fueled by every child from a broken home who wishes things could be just a little bit simpler.

"We cannot walk alone." We cannot survive without the bonds of brotherhood, or motherhood and fatherhood for that matter. We are nothing when all there is to look back on are fragments of joy. When the pursuit of happiness is not something we are working towards, but something that exists only as a distant thought.

We must let families grow.

Let the idea of living under the same roof sink in, become normal again.

We must let these families mature and develop, so that some ways down the road, the trials and tribulations they overcame can be celebrated.

Years ago, people dedicated themselves to putting family first. I have a dream that once again, people will whole heartedly devote themselves to working hard at relationships. To instilling into their children that they are loved, and always will be. To commitment.

The Roller Coaster

             It begins with the giddy faces of anticipant riders. Slowly they enter their carts, and fasten themselves in for one last ride. Those surrounding them are comrades they’ve been riding with since kindergarten. Everyone is relaxed, excited at what the tracks ahead of them hold in store. But as the carts begin to inch forward, an ache starts to grow at the bottom of each and every belly aboard. Gaining speed on the upward ascent, the ache in each belly morphs into full blown terror, and panic sets in. What if the breaks fail and the carts soar off the track? What if they get stuck and require assistance to make it to the end? What if someone has second thoughts? Can they turn back once the row of carts peak and take motion?  Reassurances exchanged between friends remind them all of the pride they will boast amongst completion of this terrifying ride. The thrill takes over all on-board, though some must maintain a firm grip on the safety bars. Everybody puts on their best smile as they swoop down past the cameras, and a sense of finality surges through the riders. Together, they experienced the mass hysteria when beginning the climb, the impending doom on their descent, and the widespread relief when it was all over. Knowing it was the last ride they would take with one another was bittersweet. The many roller coasters these people have ridden together will remain fond in their memories. In the future, a few riders may go to the same theme parks together, but for many this is it. And as each person disembarks, it dawns on them that there will always be a bigger coaster, awaiting them to climb aboard.

The Concert

There was only a moment before it would all begin. The biggest performance of my life. An internal bomb of nerves was about to detonate from within and all I could think was to keep breathing. After my summer performing at Juliard, this should've been second nature to me. But playing a sold out show in Central Park was terrifyingly daunting. I swallowed a calming remedy that left a bitter, oily after taste, tuned my guitar for the last time, and took the stage. I was met by a roaring crowd of twenty thousand and my nerves were overwhelmed with excitement. The carpet below my feet was my good luck charm, woven with paisley designs by my grandmother many years before. My only superstition was that I never performed without insence burning; the musky aroma filled the air and calmed me. I approached the stool and took my place. The crowd was silent. I looked out, and seeing the thousands of expectant faces I realized there was no good in letting my nerves get the best of me. This had to be an amazing concert. I began plucking strings and tapping my feet and became lost in the melody. In a blink two hours had gone by. The exuberant crowd beckoned me back for not one, but two encores. As I walked off the stage, I was filled with a sense of pride and accomplishment that I had never felt before. The most terrifying challenge of my life proved to be the most fullfiling one too.