Dreams really do come true, even for old folk like me. Who knew that at 66 I’d get to do something I haven’t even dreamed of doing?

In fact, if I’d listened to my college freshman English instructor, I’d be cleaning houses. There’s nothing wrong with that; it’s honest money for honest work. It’s just that I hate cleaning houses, particularly my own. Anything else is preferable, especially writing.

Not until the presidential election in 2008 when the media drove me to the brink of insanity, did I take to pounding out my frustrations on the computer. As it were, the network pundits were my Dr. Frankenstein. They are responsible for the monster storyteller I’ve become. I’m not a writer in the traditional sense. No books or magazine articles are credited to my name. I did try to publish my life story with an artsy magazine in the South somewhere. My manuscript was returned with a kind note explaining that it should be sent to a more appropriate outlet. OK. So I got ahead of myself. In my haste to share what I’d written, I assumed anybody would want to publish my piece. Wrong. So I took to blogging. It was there that I honed my craft. In the process I became a teller of stories, a storyteller. I have countless stories to share. Ask my family. My daughter is always laughing at the other end of the phone. I’m sure my husband wishes he could sometimes switch places with her. Instead of listening to my endless assortment of tales, some fascinating and some not so much he’d prefer the silence that came with being 2,000 miles away on the east coast. No such luck. We’ve been together 45 years and I’ll continue yapping until he’s well into his last set of earplugs.

Writing a column is the opportunity of a lifetime, albeit one that is nearing its seventh decade. Talk about a new lease on life! Just when I thought my brain might be going south with the rest of my body, it’s catapulting upwards into uncharted territory. I get to explore a new galaxy, of sharing my words with a vast audience of readers whom I might never, ever meet otherwise.

Whether or not you enjoy my stories is totally within your grasp. You can share them or relegate them to the recycling bin. At my age, my skin is not only wrinkling — it’s also a little “thicker.” I’m still working on tougher. Just when you think life is done doling out dreams, it can slip you a gift. Keep opening doors after others close. You never know when the next one is going to be your own personal Powerball. Remember, you’ve gotta be in it to win it. Young and old alike can have their dreams come true. I’m living proof.

Millie Vierra lives in Issaquah.