It’s early September, one of the first days in third grade. My teacher, Ms. Garnett, hands out paper and crayons and asks us to draw a picture of what we want to be in the future. I ponder my options while my classmates get to work. I don’t really know. My knowledge of jobs is so limited. My father’s career is (and has always been) a mystery to me. My mom is a graphic designer.  I like to draw, but she has warned me not to follow in her footsteps. An astronaut seems like a cool job I suppose. I consider what I want in life and work from there.

At the end of the school year, we sit in a circle “Indian-style” on the floor. Ms. Garnett opens a manila folder and reveals our artwork for the first time since September. She holds up each piece individually.  “Phil, you said he wanted to be a … fireman.” Actually, a number of boys choose fireman. A few more opt for policeman, soldier or doctor. The girls favor veterinarians and nurses.

She pulls mine out and laughs. “Bobby said he wants to be … a millionaire.” She holds up my drawing featuring me and another figure with bags of money. Ms. Garnett asks me why. I tell her I didn’t know what I wanted to do, but I definitely wanted enough money for me and my friend Chris to do whatever we wanted to do. He was the most important person in the world to me.

Chris’s family moved to Rhode Island the previous summer. I’d still consider him my best friend for years after.

Last week, I sit across from a smiling financial advisor in a trim gray suit and light blue tie. I’m there to withdraw funds and move investments around. He taps away at a computer as he asks me a few questions. “How much do you currently make?” “When would you like to retire?” “So what do you want to do with your life … when you retire?” That questions stumps me. Had he asked a few weeks earlier …  Today I have no answers.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what are your goals?” he explains patiently. “That will determine how aggressively you should be saving? Do you want to buy a boat or a vacation home for example?”

I’m silent. I can’t imagine a future anymore. He stares.

“I guess … I want to be a millionaire.”