this mural of life.

I'm a baker.

Not officially.

Not really unofficially either.

But this past week I baked (from scratch mind you) 18 cupcakes, 10 muffins, 4 carrot cakes, 3 big cookies, 2 loaves of banana bread, 2 loaves of pumpkin bread, and a peach cobbler. (...and he was still hungry....that night he had a stomach ache.)

Huzzah for dreams coming true.
ha.

I laugh at myself. Not really a ha ha ha ha ha ha ha type of laugh, but more of a closed-mouth-smile to myself as I shake my head and close my eyes (just try it, it'll be easier to understand if you do).

Yes, I do enjoy what I'm doing. I said I wanted to be a baker (A banker? No, a baker. You mean like with money? Well, I hope to make money... oi.) and this might be as close as I come.
.....
I met a man today. He was old and walking past my house with a heavy suitcase and a sleeping bag. I asked if I could help. His name is Stan. He has a disease in his legs that make it difficult to walk.
.....
I wanted to live in Colorado, Wyoming, Poland or Vermont.
Here I am.
.....
I carried his suitcase for him. We talked as we walked. We talked about books. We talked about the weather. We talked about his children. His daughter filed a missing persons report for him. He says he likes to just take off, to leave for a few months at a time.
.....
I wanted freedom. To succeed. To prove that I could do it. To make it on my own.
I have it. I've done it. I'm on my own.
.....
He said he had a camp site, so I walked into the woods with him. We walked on the trail and admired the view. We talked about God and life and others. We didn't go very far because his legs were hurting him, and even in the little distance that we went, he stopped and sat down a few times to rest.
.....
Everything that I decided I wanted a few years ago, I have.
.....
He stopped again and told me that he was fine from there. He said he didn't know what he would've done if I hadn't helped him. He smiled, swore, and said he was surprised that God had brought him this far in life. He thanked me, told me he wished he could pay me. I said I liked meeting him and thanked him. And then I went home.
.....

Jobs are lame things to dream about.
Places are lame things to dream about.
Ideas, concepts, honors are lame things to dream about.

realizing what you've dreamed of isn't worth it -
depressing thought at a young age?
nah.
I'm grateful. Because now I don't have to use anymore of my life trying for it.

people. relationships. those are dreams worth dreaming.
the beauty in the scenery will never match the beauty of a friendship.

I just wanted to remember Stan. Like Terry and the icecream sandwiches.



Who do you thank for the treasure of home, wrapped in the real of routine?
The honor of knowing your own flesh and bone,
and watching them wake from your dream?
Who do you thank for the structure of souls,
tied to each other from infant to old,
beauty so human, so holy to hold?
Who do you thank for such gold?