For twenty-five years , I gave my self to nursing. I worked every holiday , every overtime shift ,every long night when my feet ached, and my heart felt heavier than the patient chart I carried. I poured myself into a profession that I cared for deeply- yet ,looking back ,I’m not always sure it cared for me in the same way.
And somewhere in the middle of those years , time slipped past me .
Twenty-five years…. Just gone.
Lately ,I find myself sitting quietly ,pondering all the what ifs. What if I had let myself dream bigger?
What if I had trusted my heart more than my fears?
What if I had taken the bold leap toward the life I secretly wanted?
I always dreamed of cooking not just cooking – but mastering it studying at a premire culinary school ,maybe even the legendary Le cordon Bleu, But I was young ,and the weight of responsibility pressed against my chest. Financial stability, raising a family, doing ” the responsible thing” ” they all whispered louder than my passion ever could.
So I chose nursing.
And cooking stayed tucked away like a handwritten recipe I never took out of the drawer.
But sometimes when the house is quiet and memories stir, I let myself imagine another version of my life- one where I didn’t let fear win.In that life , I’m walking down the same historic halls Julia child once walked., I’m sitting in the very class rooms where she began her journey, learning the art of French cuisine with the same fire and curiosity she carried decades before me.
I see myself in Paris-
Stepping onto a cobblestone street just as the sunrise touches the rooftops. I’m sitting at a café with a warm, flaky croissant layered with fresh , silky French butter that melts the moment it touches my tongue.
I wander through a farmers market overflowing with the scent of fresh herbs ,bright vegtables, and the salty perfume of the mornings catch. Riped sun- kissed fruit hangs heavy from baskets as though it were just picked from a tree moments ago .
I imagine visiting the museums , losing myself in art and history older than anything I have ever known.
I imagine tasting authentic French dishes prepared with love , care and the kind of soulfulness only French cooking seems to carry.
I imagine sitting at a little Cafe table , watching the world move softly around me as I breath in the culture, the beauty,and the magic of a life I never allowed myself to pursue.
And though that dream lives in the realm of what could have been , it still warms my spirit. Because deep inside me, that spark for cooking …..it never died.
Maybe I didn’t walk the halls of Le cordon Bleu.
Maybe I didn’t study in France or follow the path Julia child once took.
But here I am now….Finally giving myself permission to dream again.
And maybe this time ,I’ll choose myself.
To my fearless readers I say this do what you love and never give up on a dream.
I bid you all a good night and
Bon appetite
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