When your dreams die

I had dreams.  I had plans.

Had.

A lot of what God used to get me to here was a dream I had; one in which everything came to pass.  Except the outcome I was expecting.

I had plans, too.  My plan was to retire to Oregon.  The Who has family there and a couple of weeks ago, I found myself in Klamath Falls to pick up her son for her.  Her parents live on Homedale Road.  It cracks me up that they do.  But it doesn't mean what I thought it did, if it actually meant anything at all.

As I pulled into town, I saw two things I'd never seen before:  A street named Ogden Street and a sign for the "Back 40" restaurant, right before turning onto Homedale Road.  And that's when the thought occurred to me that maybe I'm not supposed to leave Ogden.

That's not entirely why, but it's enough of a start.  When I was in Newport, it wasn't as neat as I remembered it.  I kinda had the feeling that maybe I really didn't belong there except to visit.  While I love the ocean, something just didn't feel right about being where I was.

That thought hasn't escaped me and it's been more prevalent lately:  "Would it be terrible if I had to stay in Ogden?"

I've developed a new appreciation and affinity for Ogden lately, and more and more, I'm starting to understand that this is where I am; that this is where I belong.

Dreams die.  Not everything works out, and except for the next five days, I don't have a plan for anything in my life.  I almost asked a woman at Walmart out.  Boy, was she pretty!  But I had this song stuck in my head today, "Texas Two-step".  In it is a line that goes, "...he thinks he's cool, she thinks he's a fool.  He might as well turn and go......"

I've crashed and burned enough lately.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

And part two....

At least I can laugh about it!

not that guy today!