cross-posted

When I was a kid, I used to tell my parents I wanted to be a writer.

I told my mom when I was rich and famous, I’d buy her a yellow house with a red door.

I haven’t exactly achieved any major level of fame that I can tell. I’m not rich. So far, that yellow house is still just a dream.

A few months ago, I dropped by my mom’s work. I was taking her something or just swinging by to say hi. I can’t remember.

What I do remember was on my way out, she stopped me and said, “I’m really proud of you. Of you four kids, you’re the one who chased your dreams. You knew what you wanted and you went after it.”

Mom…I’m still going after that yellow house.