Dream Tall

It was January of 2000 and everything should have been perfect.

I was sitting at home on my plush leather sofa in my fancy suburban living room. Outside the snow was falling heavily creating a beautiful winter wonderland.

A crackling fire was blazing in the fireplace. I had warm, fuzzy slippers on. A chilled Grey Goose martini was in hand. My loving family sat all around me; their cheerful faces beaming as they chatted about yet another Eagles playoff victory.

But something was terribly wrong.

Despite my beautiful surroundings, my heart was filled with a dull, aching sadness that day as I looked out across the snowy landscape. I had arrived at a crossroads in my life. And I was terrified. I had almost lost all hope.

Really, this mournful feeling had been deepening for years. All because of work. Or so I thought.

You see, I was restless and bored. At work, we kept making little changes here and there. Things would get better for a while. But nothing ever really got better for long.  Something was missing. We would always find ourselves right back where we started.

 On a dead-end road. Paved with broken dreams.

I was spending my workday with people whose only ambition in their working lives was to punch a clock and make some money and go home and forget about it all and dread the next time they have to come back.

When I started this company I thought the sky was the limit. I was passionate about learning and growing. I wanted to recapture that energy. I longed to feel that child-like joy of learning again. I wanted to experiment, take chances, and have fun.

But after years of struggle, I discovered the sweet salvation I always knew was out there.