Changing Your Mind

The sweltering heat danced on the surface of the pool as laughter and joy echoed through the yard. I found myself side by side with my brother, perched on deck chairs like kings surveying their kingdom. There was a cinematic beauty to it all, an ephemeral moment that felt pulled from the frames of an indie film. Our children were frolicking in the water, their innocent laughter piercing the hot afternoon air. But there was more to this gathering than just a summer family reunion. This was therapeutic. This was necessary. My brother, a rock in my turbulent sea of existence, and a shining beacon of inspiration, needed this breather as much as I did. The palpable weight of our journeys seemed to momentarily lift, a silent understanding passing between us. Today was about healing and reconnection. It was about us. From my black bookbag, I procured a paperback copy of “Change Your Mind: A Guide to Dreaming”. Its cover was dog-eared from repeated readings, and its pages whispered secrets of hope and resilience. As my brother reached out to take the book, I observed a change in him. His fingers traced over the worn pages, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. With every page turned, his face lit up, as if each word fed his soul, fueling a fire that had been dwindling. We delved into a conversation, our words weaving a tapestry of life experiences, struggles, dreams, and aspirations. There was a raw honesty to our exchange, each confession and revelation uncovering layers of our souls. We contemplated our existence, the purpose that fueled our relentless pursuit of success, and the evolution we’ve been undergoing individually. Yet, above all, this day was about family. It was about the ties that bind and the love that sustains. It was a temporary refuge from the grinding mill of building my empire. The dream, yet to manifest itself fully, would hopefully become an economic powerhouse, a conduit of prosperity for my family, and a monument to my resilience and vision. The hours spent away from them were sacrifices on the altar of ambition, a necessary evil for the life I envisioned for us. As I sat there, every moment of that day etched in my mind. My resolve, stronger than ever, is dedicated to this path of sobriety, each day a victory, a testament to my will.