Perhaps I haven’t grown up yet. I’m dreaming along with my five-year-old daughter about what I want to become. Today, she wants to become a paleontologist. She is going to, she says, discover and name a new dinosaur species. Big ambitions. I love that. Me? I want to become a successful author. This dream is equally big, and it will not be realized without a lot of hard work and, I’m sure, heartache.
But I’ve learned that life can’t become stale with age and achievement. Being 42 doesn’t mean my road to the grave has already been paved. There is still much to learn, to explore, to do.
So I’m going off-roading. It’s a bumpy ride, full of uncovered paths that may lead to success and may not. It doesn’t much matter. I wouldn’t have it any other way.