One morning at Lilongwe Boys Primary School, dressed in a gray uniform and partly worn-out shorts, I stood up with the confidence of Iron Man. I looked my teacher straight in the eye and said, “I want to be a pilot.” It wasn’t just a job. It was a dream. I imagined soaring through the clouds, navigating the skies, and wearing the crisp uniform with pride.
During those “When I grow up” sessions, my classmates shared dreams just as bold. Some wanted to be doctors, others teachers, or even presidents. We were a room full of big hopes in small bodies, reaching for a future shaped more by imagination than reality.
For me, wanting to be a pilot was about the fun of flying. It was a childhood wish born from watching Vietnam War movies, completely mesmerized by the legendary Huey helicopters slicing through the sky.
You see, when you’re a kid, your dreams aren’t filtered through logic or limitations. They’re purely inspired by cartoons or something as simple as seeing a plane in the sky. But then comes the shift. We grow up. Life gets messier. Responsibilities pile up. New interests creep in.
As we get older, many of the dreams we had as kids quietly drift into the background. The one who once wanted to be a lawyer now DJs at Blues on weekends. The future doctor works in customer service, getting heart attacks from impatient customers. Life has a way of nudging us in unexpected directions. Sometimes, it’s just about making things work.
So no, I never became a pilot. Now I get flooded with emails every day and I can type “kind regards” with my eyes closed. But every time I hear a jet overhead, a little piece of that childhood dream flies by with it. Dreams never die.
Dream big and always keep your imagination wide open. Be the next Colonel Harland Sanders and get the world licking their fingers with your fried chicken. Be the next Julia Child and reimagine how we cook.
Big or small, keep your dream alive. Maybe one day, you’ll fly above the clouds.
