The moon hung low, a silver disk afloat in a sea of shadows, her light spilling through the blinds in stripes, a prison of my own making. The house, a vessel of muted murmurs—soft snores, the faint creak of settling wood—breathed around me as I lay, unblinking, tethered to the bed by the weight of my thoughts. Not sleep, no, but a waking dream, the kind that sets the soul alight with questions too slippery to hold.
What is it, then, this gnawing at my chest, this ache to do? I thought of the children, their laughter like sunlight on a clouded day. Of the bills stacked like soldiers on the counter, their faces unkind. Of the dreams I once nursed in secret: the stories untold, the ideas unborn, the chance to grasp the world with hands now calloused but eager.
YouTube. The word danced in my head, a peculiar rhythm, equal parts promise and peril. A canvas, vast and void, waiting for the brush of my ambition. Tech Thickened, I thought, the name rolling through my mind like a mantra, a whisper of possibility. I saw the channel as a doorway, a bridge between what I know and what others seek. CX, APIs, Apple’s slick universe—all spinning, intertwining, a web of knowledge I could unravel for those who care to watch.
But would they? Would the world lean in to hear my tale, to watch as I forged meaning from pixels and sound? Or would it scroll past, a flick of the thumb, the sound of potential falling flat?
And yet, the fire burned brighter still. Online courses, consulting whispers carried on the digital wind, affiliate links like breadcrumbs to lead the wanderers home. The paths stretched out before me, endless, a maze of opportunity glittering beneath the moonlight.
A creak from the next room—a child’s sleepy turn—and I smiled. This is for them, I thought, this leap into the unknown. For their laughter to remain unbroken, for the roof to stand strong against the storms, for dreams to pass not just from father to child but through them, growing wilder with each new generation.
The moon shifted, her light softening, and with her, my thoughts began to settle. Tomorrow, I resolved, I’d begin. No more dreams of maybes. Only the work of what shall be.