Death of the Mustang Dream
Once upon a time a girl named Heidi had a dream. There was a certain car that she was determined to own. She was sure that someday, somehow she would buy a convertible '67 Ford Mustang. By the time she got married, this dream was still firmly established. This dream car was going to be midnight blue with a white top and white interiors. Her brand new husband knew of this deep-rooted wish, and for a wedding gift he gave her a small Matchbox version of the Mustang (midnight blue, even) as a promise that someday he would provide that dream car for her.
This was one of my lifetime goals that I wasn't positive I would achieve, but I never thought would change. However, I suddenly realized this week that somewhere along the way, this dream evaporated without me even noticing.
Terence brought the Mustang dream up just the other day, when I was trying to convince him that I would never choose to spend a ton of money on a car anymore, even if we had oodles of extra cash. He laughed at me and reminded me of the Mustang that he was sure that I still wanted. (Old restored Mustangs may not be the priciest of cars from the outset, but in upkeep they surely must be!) But when I really thought about it, I just didn't care anymore. There just isn't any part of me that can even visualize driving along the beach in that Mustang, like I used to imagine for all those years.
Now that I have actually realized that one of my lifelong dreams doesn't exist anymore, I feel kind of empty though. Clearly I'm not the same girl I was when I got married, but who exactly am I now?
This was one of my lifetime goals that I wasn't positive I would achieve, but I never thought would change. However, I suddenly realized this week that somewhere along the way, this dream evaporated without me even noticing.
Terence brought the Mustang dream up just the other day, when I was trying to convince him that I would never choose to spend a ton of money on a car anymore, even if we had oodles of extra cash. He laughed at me and reminded me of the Mustang that he was sure that I still wanted. (Old restored Mustangs may not be the priciest of cars from the outset, but in upkeep they surely must be!) But when I really thought about it, I just didn't care anymore. There just isn't any part of me that can even visualize driving along the beach in that Mustang, like I used to imagine for all those years.
Now that I have actually realized that one of my lifelong dreams doesn't exist anymore, I feel kind of empty though. Clearly I'm not the same girl I was when I got married, but who exactly am I now?
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