I had spent my entire childhood trying to accomplish a dream: work in the circus. I fell in the love with it the first time I heard the creepy music and saw the ringmaster with his dazzling hat introduce a sword swallower. There was one thing missing from the performance, though. So at age seven, I practiced my skill–my talent–so that maybe one day I could join the circus and marvel the audience members just like the sword swallower.
For years I practiced in secret, perfecting my craft. I often worked in the basement or in my room behind closed doors. My mother would always ask what I was doing. I’d usually say homework or video games. She was okay with that. My father wasn’t home much, so it was easy to keep my secret from him.
When I turned 18, I applied for a job with the city circus. Finally, my lifelong dream was almost a reality. The interview was simple. There were four people there to greet me. One of them I recognized as a ringmaster, and the other three dressed up in suits and ties and looked boring. They didn’t ask me how much money I wanted, or what had been the biggest obstacle I had overcome–all they asked was to see my talent. And when I showed them, they hired me on the spot.
I was very excited that my dream had come true. My whole life I had wanted to entertain people and make them laugh–to make them marvel–and that day had finally come. I skipped like a schoolboy all the way home, eager to tell my mother the good news. The moment I walked in the house, I saw her with my father getting dinner ready. Good, I thought. I can tell both of them.
“Mom, Dad, guess what?” I said. “I have great news!”
“What is it son?” my dad asked.
“I got a job!”
“Oh, I’m so happy for you, Tubs,” my mom said. “Did you get that job at the grocery store?”
“No,” I said. “I found a place much better. Let me give you a hint.” I then inhaled a deep breath and blew air out of my nose, slowly forming a bubble the size of a basketball. I then grabbed it with my finger and tossed it in the air.