Second Season Dreams-Why It Feels So Personal To Me

Second season dreams-why — a short introduction to this piece.

Second season dreams-why: Quick Notes

This post is a little different from my usual posts, and I initially considered posting it directly on Substack, but chickened out. I’m not sure I’m ready to maintain another platform, despite loving it. Plus, you are all here, and this message is way too important for just a few people to read. It’s about second seasons, and the dreams we chase with passion and purpose after we’ve either raised our kids, followed someone else’s dreams, or done what we had to survive. And why this topic feels so personal to me.

The first time my mom went into the hospital was late January of my senior year of high school. She and my father rented an apartment in Florida for one month to be closer to my sister, Jackie, who was sixteen years older. I stayed with my other sister and her family during that time. To say I was confused by this turn of events was an understatement. Apparently, my mother wasn’t feeling good for a while and, like most women, pushed through. It was the beginning of something I could have never predicted.

When you’re young, you think your parents will be around forever. And even after coming home from Florida, later that February and the consecutive hospital, hopping that occurred over the next five years, I never thought she’d leave us. Despite the glaring truth staring me in the face, I remained unaware, or maybe I didn’t want to believe that her fate would end the way it did. Even when my mother was on the lung transplant list for years and kept getting passed over because of her weight, I had hope. When she was approved for a port for weight gain, I felt validated in that optimism. And when insurance wouldn’t cover her port any longer, and her weight dropped to 74 pounds, I still clung to hope. It was all I had, we had.

When she passed away five years after that first hospital visit, after a very long battle with COPD, my mind ruminated on two things. At 56, she would never see retirement with my dad, and all the dreams she had put on hold, having four kids, had vanished along with her. You see, my mom was a beautiful person inside and out, and married young. She had me later in life, so the majority of her life was spent being a mom. And she was an incredible one at that.

My mother was multifaceted, a curious creative, a DIYer, even before it was a thing, and an avid romance reader who loved to bake. She was also a kind and devoted member of our church. The number of people she took in when I was little was a testament to the type of human she was. Although she never spoke of her “second season dreams,” I knew she had them. When she passed, it felt like that choice was stolen from her. But the silver lining was that I tucked her unclaimed dreams away in my heart. In everything I did and who I became, they were a part of me.

Nine years later, I received a call that would change how I moved through life forever. I picked up my dad’s house phone at 6:20 P.M. on a chilly October night after just returning from Saturday night mass. Immediately, I heard my brother-in-law’s voice. “I’m sorry, Jen, she’s gone.” “Who?” I said, confused. All I heard was “Jackie. She’s gone.” She was only 48 years old.

My sister (far right) and I talked for hours one night before she died, just her and me. She came for a visit to Colorado with my dad and her family. It was a trip I’ll never forget for so many reasons. While everyone was busy downstairs, she found me in my room. We talked about growing up and laughed at so many memories we each forgot. There was talk about the life I was starting with John, the next chapter in life she was nearing, and her second season dreams. My sister was a worker and a saver for her entire life. And she made financially savvy moves in real estate that paid off. The unfortunate part is that she passed two years later and never got to see the fruits of her labor.

I tucked her “second season dreams” alongside my mom’s, determined that someday they’d matter. In my forties, I began to panic. When you’ve had two women in your life pass away relatively young, you start to question your own mortality. Then my dad passed away, and I was lost in a sea of grief. I had always wanted to write a book, but had ZERO clue as to how. It was a year after he died that I pulled out an idea I was drafting but never finished. I was determined to let the words guide and heal me. I created a fictional story about a woman who had just lost her mother and embarked on a big, bold adventure to Colorado. In this story, the female character still had a dad and a sister. It was cathartic to write in so many ways.

I had no idea where this would all lead, but for my mother and sister, I had to try. It was as if their circumstances lit a fire in me. It emboldened me more than ever to seek and claim a second-season dream for myself. Like anything in life worth attaining, it wasn’t easy. You can read more about my writing journey HERE. But long story short, I hung in there when my first agent couldn’t sell that book and started on another. On my office wall, near my desk, I have a picture of my sister (from my wedding above with my other sister) hanging, along with a note I wrote to my mom a few years before she passed, accompanied by the quote below. They were my compass during the years I anchored myself to my chair, striving to become a writer I could be proud of.

Five years later, I am happy to say I wrangled that “second season dream.” After finishing my second book and landing my second agent, who sold said book, I can finally say I’m a debut novelist. My book, The Summer I Found You, is set to release on April 7, 2026. And it is available for pre-order. I know many of you aren’t keen on pre-ordering, but I will tell you it helps young authors like myself. It tells bookstores I’m a book worth carrying and where they will place my book in the store. It also steers The New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists, which is another dream altogether.

The post serves as a gentle reminder that your second-season dreams are valid, whatever they may be. Start working on them NOW, even if just for a hobby. It’s not only important for your well-being, but also for your children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, and so on. For them to see you inspired by something that visibly lights you up will mean so much more someday, I promise. And who knows, you may even encourage them as they head into the world. It’s a huge part of why I chose a creative path, because my mother modeled it for me in her day-to-day.

On a side note, I haven’t forgotten about my DIY series, What Would Dahlia Make. I have been in the thick of my manuscript and deadlines, such as the acknowledgments. Geesh, who would have thought that would be harder than the book? In case you missed the first few weeks, the links are below.

Have a happy day, friend!

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