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Ship of Dreams

“Hasn’t that ship sailed?” I hardly thought furthering my education was a dead end venture, but her voice dripped with disdain. The holiday table was looking at me expectantly, like I would actually have an answer.

My thoughts raced as I struggled how to tell this relative-by-marriage that mediocrity wasn’t my style and I didn’t see myself at 65 working in retail. My ship might have been in dry dock, but it wouldn’t be long before I hit the open sea. Envy radiated off her, and my lips curled into what I hoped read as a smile. “Rather sailed than sunk.”

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