When I’m rich and famous…
Since my dad has been home, we have been having breakfast together, each morning (well brunch because we both wake up extraordinarily late). Each morning it’s pretty much the same. We eat toast with jam, some kind of fruit, orange juice, and an egg. We talk about our yesterdays, and our plans for the day ahead. Though our plans never really include each other, I’ve become very accustomed to these mornings and I’ve come to enjoy them.
This morning’s topic had a bit of variety because my dad started asking me about my future. As a parent, my dad really never pushed me in a certain direction, career-wise. I’ve always made my own decisions in what I’ve wanted to do with my life, but I’ve felt that my dad never really showed interest. Yes, he is the type to share my successes with other family members and his friends, and tell me that he’s proud, but when it came to the details of it he was out of the loop. But today, he asked about all my ideas, my plans, my back up plans, my thoughts, my concerns. Yet, while I was talking about all my uncertainties he had this with-out-a-doubt look to him. Like he knew more than I did, like he knew there was more in store for me than I will ever know. He asked me, “So, what are you going to do when you’re rich and famous?” Fantasizing and dreaming up these impossible dreams, child-like, imagination-inspired and having this talk with my dad made me realize that these fantasies are well within my reach, and I have someone that fully believes in my capabilities. Granted, the house in Spain might be a bit of a stretch, it’s nice to laugh and talk about our yearly trips to my cabin in Mammoth.
I’ve always known my dad believed in me, but that look of 100% confidence in me can not be translated through a phone call. It made me hopeful, it made me excited, scared, and proud.
After that, I started asking my dad about his plans. He has been building a hotel from the ground up in the Philippines which has accounted for his absence during these past couple of years. But he talked with such frivolity and joy but with the fear that it will all be for nothing, but the rush he gets while he’s living his dream is one that can only be seen by a dreamer as well. This made me realize, that’s where I get it from. That hopeful dreamer side of me, I get from my dad.
We’ll both be rich and famous, and knowing that my almost 60 year old dad goes to sleep having dreams about his future just like me, has me thinking about breakfast.
