Whilst having lunch with a new acquaintance the other day, they shared a very personal account of their attachment to America and their dream to be a writer who lives in a lofty apartment in NYC.
Her connection with NYC (which she thinks of each day) began when she lived there for three months in 2008. With a faraway expression she stated that the experience changed her world.
Yet like myself, she is still here.
She is generous, intelligent, compassionate and engaging. She is single, lives alone, loves her family and friends. She is proud of her career and achievements. In summary a blessed life - just not the life of her dreams.
Today as I stood in her office doorway observing her uncluttered and white washed room, I quickly noticed that there was only one hint of passion or glimpse of that NYC writer ... a small 10cm x10cm mouse pad beside her computer with a laminated image of the NYC subway.
Later I thought about how strange it is that she has a passion, a road map and a destination, but yet something is missing. Perhaps like many of us, she still hasn't realised that she can make her dreams happen and that the pursuit of these dreams are as worthy as any other life adventures and blessings.
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