Freedom

I walked down the street. My beat-up converse hitting the pavement, I turn left to walk through the park—my head heavy with the weight of life. I had just received an offer for my dream job, but it pays significantly less.

I weave through the trees into the opening, where I see my good friend Gus sitting at our usual chess table, waiting for me.

"Hi Gus," I said with a sigh of tiredness from carrying too heavy of a burden.

"Hey, dude, what took you so long?"

I paused. I didn't want to unload my troubles onto Gus. We were chess buddies. We saw each other every week, but at the park and to play chess. Not to unload my constant stress of the pressures I feel from my family, friends, co-workers, and myself.

"Nothing too important, just a little slower today."

He has the chess board already set up. As we silently move our pieces, I keep thinking of the job, the debt that it can't help pay, and the future. Shouldn't I have more figure out by now? I had turned 30 last month, and I have only felt more and more weighty.

The past haunts me.

The future taunts me.

The present is a trap of perpetual existential crises.

"Gus, what do you do?"

I was surprised that I asked, breaking our unspoken rule of personal questions.

"Why do you ask?"

"I just received the job offer of my dreams, but it doesn't pay enough."

"What do you mean, 'pay enough'?"

I was perplexed by his question. Doesn't he understand the pressures of living the victorious life in America? I have student loans, unpaid credit cards, bills, rent, let alone money to prove I am not flawed and thriving to all those around me. Didn't he get the memo that is how the world works? How embarrassing would it be for me if all my friends knew about the crushing debt I am in.

"You know, to live the American dream or something like that?"

Gus looked up at me and just stared.

"I am just saying, we are told 'you do you,' but really you do what society tells you to do or we will outcast you is the real norms we have to follow."

"But if it's your dream to do it, why does it matter? Why follow someone else's dream?"

Well, that was an emotional gut-punch I wasn't expecting this morning. I look down at my pieces, feeling dizzy from Gus's words. How can he even say that? How is he so calm? Does he not understand pressure?

"How much do you need to make this dream job of yours?"

"At least $20,000."

He looks down at the game.

"Checkmate."

I am now officially annoyed. How can you judge my life and beat me at chess? I don't say a word as I get up and leave the table.

A week goes by, and I head down to the park, still a little annoyed at Gus and still indecisive about my job offer.

He is there waiting for me. I sit down, and he hands me a little black notebook.

"What is this?"

"It's a notebook. I want you to write down why this is your dream job."

"What?"

"I think you need to think about why this is your dream job before you can turn it down and why all the other things telling you no are even worth listening to."

With that last statement, he walked away. Leaving me to stare at this little black book.

I went home and paced around in my apartment. Thinking about my dream job and the pressure to continue to keep up with the façade I had built for myself. I thought about what Gus asked me, "But if it's your dream to do it, why does it matter? Why follow someone else's dream?"

Frustrated that he would challenge me so. Feeling like a failure because I had let someone else steal my dream and gave me the nightmare of debt and materialism. The things in my own apartment reminding me of the very debt I owed to claiming such a horrific life.

I opened the little black book, and an envelope comes out. I open it, and a check for $20,000 is in it. A note that says, "for the dreamer."

What?! How? Why? I stared at it. This was the exact amount I could buy my freedom, and someone just handed it to me. Who was I to take it so quickly?

I grabbed a pen and started writing. I began to dream with overwhelming peace. Someone was willing to buy my freedom so that I could chase the thing I've always felt made to do. That I've longed to do. This one act of kindness moved me, and instead of being bogged down by the nightmare of the world, someone gave me an out to chase a dream that seemed unattainable, only for the few who were smart enough to escape the clutches of debt and the person the world told me to be.

Gus had allowed me to be free. I was free to explore who I was, who I want to be, and what I was made to do for this world.

The only response was to take the job, to quit my life, find new friends and stop living the lie I had been for so many years.

But first, I ran to thank him. I didn't even know where he lived. I ran to the park. Waiting and hoping he would be there. He wasn't. I did that every day for a week. I ran out of time because I had to relocate for this new job and was unsure I would ever see him again.

I had three days to pack my up stuff and move, feeling free that I had paid off everything with the money Gus had given me. I was sad. I couldn't seem to find him. I saw the little black book again. I flipped through and noticed the last page was written on. All it said was, "Be free."

Not only did he help me pay for everything, but he allowed me to be free from the guilt of not being able to say thank you.

I ripped out that page and put it in my wallet. I carry it and look at it every day as I live the life I had always wanted. To have claimed the person I want to be instead of what the world says to be.

All because of one person. He gave me not just money but hope and freedom.

Now I am free.