Young Dreams

People look. I’m a long haired blonde in a convertible with the top down. Of course they look. But the lingering stare I’ve enjoyed the most didn’t come from a tall dark and handsome, tie-me-up, tie-me-down drink of water.

I pulled into a restaurant parking lot as a mom and little girl were walking out hand-in-hand. She looked to be about nine years old. Her head turned as her big eyes followed me and my car as I parked. Short brown curls bounced as she tugged on her mother’s hand and said, “Momma, I want that!”

I smiled. I remember being about that age and seeing a young woman cruising down the interstate, top down, hair in the breeze, seemingly without a care in the world and the life she wanted firmly in hand. As I pressed my head against the glass of my mother’s minivan, I thought the exact same thing: I want that. 

I hope she hangs on to that dream. I did.

22 thoughts on “Young Dreams

  1. A best friend in high school had a navy blue Mustang convertible. We were all blonde. It was truly like living the dream; it even felt like that back then. You’re a bad ass and that convertible is F U N. xx Hy

  2. I’m sure her mom looked at you (in all your glorious beauty and freedom) and thought, “me too”.

    Kids are great and I’m so thankful to be a mom, but I miss that feeling of freedom.

    • The car? Yes. Absolutely. I love it. I love how I feel when driving it. It’s one of the best major purchases I’ve made. :) Now my dreams about life… Not exactly. My life is very different from what my nine-year-old self could imagine. In someways much better. And others much worse. But I have to say the essence of the dream is there. At the end of the day I like who I am, and that inner confidence was the heart of my young dream.

  3. Yes those convertibles are fun but some love must also be given to the minivans…wouldn’t you say? Hehe, sure is nice to have all that room in the back (wink). Love you Juliet…

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