Wildflower (Kris Bryant)

14 Childhood Dreams

Kris

"What is all of this" I ask as I look through a box of papers.

Serenity invited me to her place for today while my apartment underwent some cosmetic changes. So I grab the dog and bring her over to Ren's place for a while. Her younger brother was off in California for a week for some band competition and her parents were at work and her older brother moved out a while ago so it was just her and I.

And since we were at her place I begged her to show me around since I've only ever seen the common areas. We ended up in her room listening to some of her vinyl records and going through her stuff. She was pretty open with a lot of her life. If you ask her a question she'll answer it and I loved her for that. It takes a lot of strength to be able to talk about the bad parts of yourself just as much of the good. And she was the queen of being true to who she was, mistakes and all.

"Those are some of my old writing. For the longest time I sat there and I watched the world around me go by. To sick to learn for myself what this was all about. I learned from people I never knew, I watched people I've never seen. You hear the most incredible things when you open your ears instead of your mouth for once. And I liked to write down my observations, learn from them so I don't have to make the same mistakes too" she explains.

"This looks like poetry" I insist.

"I dabbled" she admits.

"Do you mind if I read these" I wonder.

"Those ones, not at all" she insists.

So I pick up the box and take out the papers. They were written on some pretty weird things, probably whatever she could find at the time she was feeling inspired. I pick the one on the top because that would be the newest one and I start to read it.

"The wind does not follow directions
And honestly neither should we
Whichever way the wind blows us
Is where we need to be.

We can adjust our sails
Plot our course
And sail the open blue
But we will never be where we're not supposed to be and the wind makes sure that is true.

Sometimes the wind creates a storm
Then suddenly we get lost
But our faith in the world should never waiver
Never die, go away or get crossed.

We are free like the wind
Strong like a bird
Beautiful like the sky so blue
And the wind helps us see it all and start up a life all new."

I turn to Serenity as she watches to see my reaction. She was biting in her nails like she did when she was nervous and I could tell she wanted me to like it.

"Ren" I say softly. "That was so beautiful. You wrote all of these" I say pointing to the box with many more poems and other writings like these.

"Uh, yeah. I did" she admits.

"Why don't you write for a living? So many people love what you say, and when you say it like this" I say picking up the paper I was reading from earlier, "then they have no choice but to listen. You've sat here for 20 years watching people and learning from them. You can help so many people" I insist.

"It's just a silly poem" she claims.

But I shake my head as I look at the paper in my hand. "This is literary art, Ren. You have a true talent that is way past being my personal assistant. You have such a way with words. You can make people feel good, I know it. I'm one of those people. But imagine who all you could touch if you published your writings" I say.

"I don't want to get my hopes up on a silly dream I used to have. I like being a personal assistant. I'm learning so much and-" she starts.

"And you you're comfortable" I accuse. "Whoever did something great when they were comfortable" I ask.

"Never" she sighs.

"Exactly. I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to. But I need you to know that your soul is so beautiful. And it's reflected in your writing. You've read so many books that you know what people want to read. You know what words to make people feel what you feel. I think you would be an amazing writer" I insist.

She pop up off her desk and joins me on her bed. Her window wide open as the wind blows in and messes with her hair like the first day I saw her. She takes the paper out of my hand and looks at it. She just smiles as she lets out a sigh.

"When I was little I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be like my favorite authors and find success in writing. Success in touching people I will never even meet. But I realized that there was books I didn't like. And they weren't bad, but they just weren't for me. What touches some doesn't touch everyone. And I didn't want to fail as a writer, it would have broken my heart. So I gave up on that dream and just decide to read instead. I still write from time to time. Sometimes it's how I want a book to end or changing a way a certain moment of my life went. I could write about anything really. But only for fun, nothing else" she claims.

"I play baseball just for fun too, but I get paid for it" I say and she giggles.

"That's different. There aren't people who hate watching baseball in the way people hate to read" she says.

"Maybe not. But that feeling you get from reading a really good book, you can give that to other people. Maybe there's a girl out there like you who was scared of the world simply because all she knew was the stories she read in books. Only to find out that a happily ever after is only there for the people who make them" I say.

"What would I even write about" she questions.

"I couldn't tell you. Your heart is special. I'm sure you can figure something out" I insist.

"I'll think about it" she smirks.

"You better" I tease.

She lets me keep the box of writings and read through them then I'll return them once I'm done. We end up going outside to the back porch for some fresh air because she loves being outside. Beatrice runs around in the sprinkler and we watch her have the time of her life. I keep Serenitys hand in mine as we watch our crazy dog.

I look down at her and wished more than anything I would have had the chance to tell her that I loved her. That I loved every damn thing about her and I wouldn't change her for anything in the world.