Mystic Fire

Many years ago, my brother and I cooked up an idea together. We wanted to open a little shop together. It would be a combination bookstore, gaming shop and tea and coffee place.

I adore books, so we would sell used books. There would be a section for used video games and systems, with tables set up for various types of games and perhaps tournaments. Of course we would have tea, coffee and some simple treats.

We were going to call it Mystic Fire. The name comes from a poem that I wrote about my brother Brad years ago after a very rough point in his life.

Over the past few years I have watched some close friends that have shops of their own. The amount of hours and time they have to put in are very likely more than my 56-year-old arthritic body would be willing to give right now.

But somehow, that dream never quite dies for me. I keep thinking if the money was right, we know enough people who would want to be a part of it who could work there and it could happen.

What do you want to be when you grow up? This was pretty much always my answer. To work in a quiet, comfortable happy place. To be surrounded by the people and things that I love. To create a haven for others that need one.

Somehow, I ended up in Corporate America. It has been good and bad. It has provided insurance, stability, food, and a roof over our heads. I can only be grateful for that. But it hasn’t been easy, and it has never been where my heart is. 

I will be 56 years old in December. We’ve never had the kind of budget where you go out and start a bookstore. We have a lot of things that need addressing at our house. My husbands car is practically an antique.

Our lives have been a mix of joy, happiness, tragedy, brilliance, stupidity, and blessings. Always, there is Rob, me, Josh, and Patrick. We have weathered everything that has come and I know that we will continue to do that. We are amazingly blessed and my heart is filled.

Yet, as I get up every day and put on the cloak of order and responsibility that Corporate America taught me in 1982 when I graduated from high school, I find my thoughts returning more and more to Mystic Fire. 

I picture Brad and I working in the store, surrounded by family, friends and loved ones. I picture other lost and unique souls finding our shop and knowing that it’s a place that they too belong. Whether it ever happens or not, I will always hold this dream as one of my favorite sweetest ones. It holds the same place in my heart as health and happiness for my husband and children, family and loved ones.

We all have dreams. Some we can bring into reality. Some we cannot. They say something about who we are. What are yours?