When I lived in Spain I taught English lessons to one of the French teachers, Javier, and his son Yann. The lessons happened at their kitchen table, at which Yann truly struggled to remain seated for the whole thirty minutes. When Yann left Javier and I would usually just chat in English. I learned a lot about Javier–that he lived in Paris for twenty years and ran the auxiliares program there, that his wife grew up in Morocco, that his dream was to be a translator for the EU. I learned that being an official EU translator is very competitive. You have to master three languages and pass written and verbal exams in each one. Javier took it multiple times and never passed.
I have a friend from New York who made a show. It’s pretty cool actually. They made several episodes. They got an agent. They had a meeting with Netflix–how crazy is that?! But Netflix passed. They’re still looking for someone to run it and I hope we’ll all get to watch it someday.
But I’ve been wondering recently: what happens on the other side of that dream deferred? You’ve done your best. Tried every door. Tried multiple times. So now what will be the thing that ties your days together and propels you forward?
I haven’t talked to Javier in a while but his house is the top floor of a Madrid apartment building with a balcony big enough for a garden. Yann is bilingual–almost trilingual–in the way that only a child of professional linguists can be. He speaks French with his mom and Spanish with his dad; Spanish at home and French at school. And English with me.
Honestly maybe the other side of a dream deferred isn’t that different than the other side of a dream achieved.
Anne Foster 