Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Dimples Dreams And Dog Heads

 We all had dreams as a child, or at least I would like to presume that we did,
and I sometimes wonder what my husband's dreams were.
What went on in that sweet little dimple-faced, I love my dog, boy's head,
besides "I wonder what would happen if I stick this fork in this electrical outlet? Will my mom take a broom and knock me off the socket when she enters the room accidentally at that very moment with a broom in her hand?"  

You know....shit like that that extraordinarily precocious, meant to grow up to be an engineer, boys do.  
He and I, although we never knew one another as children, did share a common dream, and that was to go somewhere else, to get out of the small towns we grew up in, he in Illinois and myself in Iowa.
Even my Barbie doll games reflected that as Barbie always chose to live on a mountain, a beach by the ocean, in a castle, anyplace but where she was; there were definitely no Iowa corn fields in my dreams.  
Small town America.
Great places to grow up, but after that what?

The people I know that remained in that small town are great people... solid people...nice people...with friends they have known for their entire lives. Nothing wrong with that.
But I needed something more.
I wasn't sure what.
Just something different than what I had known for eighteen years.
My husband knew he did not want to work in a mine in southern Illinois, so going elsewhere, via the Air Force, was his route of escape.
My husband is still somewhat that little boy that stuck the fork in the electrical outlet,
a 'I wonder what will happen if' kind of guy, relying on his wife to come running with the broom
if necessary,
but these days he's learned to temper those inquisitive parts of his mind and instead just Google the question to find out the answer.
The dimples and his love for dogs still remain though.
Like me, he kisses their heads daily.
Some things, no matter where you live, simply never change.

Did you have big dreams?


  1. Ah, dreams. I once thought I'd write the great America novel, or at least the equivalent of a Nancy Drew book. But I went into nonfiction, instead.

    1. I think you would make a great fiction writer! You are so good with words!

  2. I lived many years . . . in SHOULDS . . .
    And then I grew up, FAST, lost my naive self, thrust in the REAL WORLD.
    Dreams . . . I had some . . . and have lived some . . . like love and happy days, energy and health . . .
    Most of all though . . . learning to be true to myself gave me more than I ever hoped or dreamed.