Fantasies and Bravery

I have always had a fantasy of being one of those female protagonists who move away from their lives to start again in a new locale. I love to read books with story lines containing strong women who, for one reason or another – be it loss of a job, divorce, a broken relationship, inheriting a summer home from a newly deceased family member, or what have you – move away from wherever they are living to begin a new life someplace where no one knows them. I imagine moving to the South Carolina of Dorothea Benton Frank to find myself living in a dilapidated beach house and starting a business in town. What would the business be? I imagine it would be a book store, maybe new and used books and assorted sundries, with typewriters of varying ages and colors like they have at Shakespeare and Company in Paris. Of course, there would be the requisite single man to complicate my life. He would probably be homegrown and someone all the ladies in town adore and someone they wish to see happy. He would probably have a story himself of a lost love, be it from death or because she wanted to move on to a bigger city and he could not leave his roots. He would be kind to animals – maybe a farmer or a veterinarian. Perhaps he would also work with his hands, building classically beautiful furniture or tinkering with some kinds of machinery, maybe lawn mowers. That would be a tip of the hat to my dad who could repair most every lawnmower. There would be an assortment of colorful townspeople, probably distrustful of someone new in town, who reluctantly decide I am a good addition to the makeup of the town. There could be a mystery of some sort – there usually is. It might be an urban legend about someone in town or a ghost story of an old home. There would probably be some incident designed to draw me back to my old life but where I ultimately decide to stay in my new locale because it has become home to me and I cannot imagine living anywhere else. Perhaps there would be love between the requisite single man and me or perhaps we would just be dear friends and kindred spirits with an unrequited spark between us.

At this point, the female protagonist would have to be a much younger version of me, the brave version who decided long ago to leave the area where I was born and raised to head into the great unknown to find who I really am. Both of my daughters, much braver than I, live away from where they grew up. One went to college and never returned. She followed her original dream to be a teacher and she continues to follow her dreams – educationally, personally, professionally. The other got her master’s and headed off to a job she loves. I am amazed by their ability to march off into the great unknown to find their path in the world. I always try to live my life without regret and how could I regret a life that gave me three wonderful children who are all successful in their own rights? I was able to stay home to raise them then find a rewarding career as an English teacher where I get to interact with interesting and awesome teens each day.

Maybe my role in life has always been to be an encourager of dreams. I am honored when a student shares his or her hopes and dreams with me. I ask them to do so in Do Nows and narratives and some give pat and cursory responses while others draw me the intended road map to their dreams. They tell me what they envision for their lives and how they intend to reach their goals. I am often in awe when their lofty dreams are laid bare and sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I had been a tiny bit braver.