I grew up right here.
When I was a little girl growing up in a small Scottish village I day dreamed. All day, every day I would imagine my life unfolding and what I wanted it to be. When I woke up I was excited; sights, smells, sounds were as clear as a newly tuned piano being played.
My future seemed so far away - like trying to eat a bar of chocolate with a fork and wearing gloves at the same time. But in that dream of my future I saw clear prizes: many notebooks were going to bursting full of stories, of ideas, of narratives of my day dreaming. My notebooks would be turned into something. Something "really cool."
But I know now that my life was to turn out very different. I kept getting sick as a child and nobody really knew the depths of that until my older brother got sick, too, and we were sent off for tests. The tests were clear; we got a clean bill of health. Except I didn't feel any better, nor did I feel reassured. I kept how I felt to myself to avoid being thought of as a "faker."
I went on with life, I filled notebooks with my thoughts but the day dreaming was getting me into trouble at school and thinking good things seemed to make me feel worse so I gave up on all that when I was about 9 or 10.
At 22 I became engaged and I really wish that in my mind my life would end when it was good, all those happy years ago, to when I got engaged at 22 until the present day. My Happy Years. My Really Happy Years. Where I know dreams will come true and great things will happen, even if I am not filling notebooks and thinking they will turn into something really cool.
