At first, we thought the black liquid was oil, that we’d struck it rich and that we’d be able to retire and live in leisure. We actually started writing down all the ways we’d spend the money. Our first choice was to pay off the house mortgage and the car payments. But then, we started dreaming What If and thought of all the frivolous ways we could spend the money: on traveling, buying a new car, an entire new wardrobe, on not working, and even a horse was on the list. We began wishing and hoping that it was oil and all our dreams would come true… our dreams, our families’ dreams, and our kids’ dreams. We thought of all the ways we’d announce that “we’d struck it rich!” and politely snub it in our neighbors’ faces that we’d found oil, that we were now rich. We were dying to leave the town we felt trapped in. We dreamt of France and the Eiffle Tower; of London and the Westminster Abbey; of Italy and the Sistine Chapel and Venice canals; of Russia and St. Basil’s Cathedral. We dreamt of quitting all our jobs and spending the year, or years, traveling, living in Wales, or New Zealand – wherever and not worrying about money. Of course, all the extravagances would happen after we paid off the mortgage and car. We’d even buy a new car. We’d go book shopping or just shopping daily because, why not? We were rich.
But, the black liquid we thought was a deep new oil section was just a spot of oil. Not deep but enough that we could pay off the crew to extract it and little else. As we watched it dry up, so did our dreams. We were still stuck here, in this town – a town that wasn’t a ghost town but neither was it a booming city – just a small, country town that was stagnant. My husband’s family had lived their all their lives, and their parents lives, toiling the earth. And he and I – well, we were stuck too. With the farm and mortgage, and no quick get rich scheme. Just a glimmer of hope in the shallow black liquid pool.
And our dreams faded and we watched as the days pass, marked only by the changing seasons. No hope for an escape. And every now and then, a little black puddle appeared to give another young couple that glimmer of hope, of dreams in reach and unfulfilled. It was like an addiction – to catch that hope that never stayed long enough to satisfy any dreams. And it continues to disappear and reappear, always right before one has completely lost all hope, that black liquid.
It always comes back. It gives enough for the necessities to continue working the ground. Only the necessities and never any desires. So, a word of caution. If you see that black liquid and glimmer of dreams, know that you can only keep those dreams if you leave and pursue them. They will not stay alive where the black liquid appears.
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