Windmills
On day 279
I try to write every day. On sobriety, recovery, life, and my quest to do better.
Am I doing better? It’s 5 am. I'm laying down with my dogs downstairs. I'm exhausted truth be told. Tired of putting so much pressure on myself to do so much. To be so much.
But I also don’t want to give up my dreams. Of all things, writer, lawyer, activist, performer and poet, I am a daydreamer. Ponyboy from The Outsiders type of dreamer. Like my dad who wanted to own a bar and did, despite all the odds against him. Yes, it kind of ended in disaster, we lost everything financially as a family.
But we still had each other.
It’s the quest that matters I think. To dream the impossible dream is a good thing.
Today is Father's Day. I think of my dad. I always remember him with fondness. Yes, I idealize him. But he deserves that. In my head, his voice is the one I hear the loudest.
“Jenny! You want some bologna and eggs for breakfast?”
It’s there. It’s almost as if he is alive, if just for a moment.
Still chasing windmills. On day 279.
