Dreamcatcher (6/ 27)

I have always wanted to be a scientist.

It's been my dream, in some form or another, since I was a child, rolling around in the mud with my brother. I remember when I got my first telescope- astronomy was my first love- it was one Christmas, we were still living in England. I remember this holiday in particular, because my dad was deployed, and my young mind had so much trouble figuring out how my dad was involved with the gift when he was a world away. 'It's from me and Papa,' my mom had said, aiming the video camera at me as I tore the paper to pieces.

I must have been eight, at the very oldest. I knew the names of all of Jupiter's moons, and Saturn's rings had sent my own mind spinning.

I got a microscope a while later, and I remember making my own slides out of ant bodies, blackberries, and anything I could get my tweezers on. Anything that I could mush between the two pieces of safety glass was inspected, analyzed, and promptly filed away.

My other love has always been the arts. If you ask my mother, she'd quote me directly: I wanted to be 'An artist by day, and an astronomer at night.' That's all I have ever wanted.

I wanted a lab coat and an easel. My horn quickly replaced my paints, pastels, and pencils, and cells and cycles replaced the planets, but my devotion to the arts and sciences has remained unshaken. How could I have ever lost my passion, when I learn ever moment I'm involved in these studies? Even when the concepts were difficult, even when my horn seemed to have a mind of its own (it can still be quite temperamental) they were never cast out of my favor.

I realized today, as I was reflecting on the past couple of years- those leading up to my high school graduation and the full two years I've spent at  Vassar, that I am so. close. to realizing my dreams. This summer is the first of many steps towards the labcoat and discoveries I'll wear as a scientist. This December marks ten years of learning the subtleties of horn playing. I spend my days in the lab, and my evenings in the recital hall. I'm turning into the person I've always wanted to be, and the realization makes me happier than any paycheck, any sunrise, ever could.

And how lucky am I? To be satisfying the child I still am while turning into a so-called adult? The notion makes my head spin. When take a step back and retrace my steps, I have surprised myself. When I put my actions and journeys to another's life story they sound so astounding, and I think to myself 'There is no possible way I am living this life.'