When I see my daughter’s pictures from her work in the wild, my heart feels happy and a little sad at the same time. She’s hiking in the mountains, sleeping in a tent, and looking at rocks and plants all day. It’s exactly what I’ve always wanted to do ever since I was a little kid, just like she is now.
I’ve tried so hard to make my dream come true. I wrote many letters asking for jobs, but no one said yes. People say, “You’re too old.” It’s like I’m a broken toy that nobody wants to play with anymore. Mark Twain once said, “The secret of getting ahead is getting started.” But for me, it’s too late to start.
I often close my eyes and imagine walking through the forest, listening to the birds, and feeling the wind on my face. But then I open my eyes, and I’m still at home. They say, “Don’t cry over spilled milk,” so I try not to be too sad.
Even though I can’t live my dream, watching my daughter do it makes me smile. She’s brave and strong, just like a superhero. She’s living my dream, and that’s almost as good as doing it myself. I guess some dreams are meant to be passed down, like a special gift from one person to another.
