A Dreamer

I think I was born to be a doctor.  It was a perfect career, because I was a science kid.  Math, biology, physics, and chemistry all came easily to me.  The arts were for other people.  When it came to writing, I was lost, and I think my teachers knew it.   I knew that but there was something they didn’t know.  I had an imagination.  Like the time my mother sent me out to burn the trash in the alley.  I saw waves coming off the burning oil can.  Intuitively, I just knew no one else could, because I had mystical powers.  Maybe I was Superman.  Regardless, as I grew older, no one praised my writing skills.  I was persuaded it was a waste of time.  So, I pointed myself to medical school and found that, in spite of the rigorous discipline it took to get there, I liked being a doc.  But something was missing.  The imagination never left me.  I loved telling stories to my friends, and they seemed to like listening to me.  Then one day when I finished recounting to a friend on something that had happened, she said you should write a book.  It was a startling statement.  I had never thought of doing it because I was a science guy, not a writer.  With that simple piece of advice, it was as if someone had given me permission to do something I thought was out of my reach.  And so, started my writing career.  Never give up on your dreams.