A Dream Deferred
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore, and then run? Those words from the famous poem Harlem by Langston Hughes are ones I've carried with me since reading Fences by August Wilson as a college sophomore. The poem was printed on the opening page of the book. Fast forward to a recent family vacation and a letter my father-in-law handed to my wife. It was one she had written to her future self when she was 14 years old, the same age my daughter is now. In the letter, my wife described her dreams of attending college, becoming a teacher, getting married and having 4 children. All of which came true, except the four children part - at least not in the way she imagined. You see, our younger selves lead us to believe life is a straight line or progressive path in which we take a series of steps towards our goals. Over time, we learn it is anything but a linear journey. Each of our path's is filled with ups and...