Nurturing hopes and dreams

Outside my window this Japanese elm is blossoming. A few years ago, its seed was planted, nurtured, and with time, it brought itself to fruition.  In nurturing our hopes and dreams, we often begin with just a seed. We grow and nurture our hopes, and sharing the fruit of our realized hopes and dreams is one of life's greatest joys. 

This morning I am grateful for the many seeds I have planted in my writing.  As I tend to the soil, i.e. doing the inner work that will sustain growth and development, I look forward to sharing my realized fruits with you. I am tending the soil around this short short. 

The Shirt Waiting in The Closet
The purple and white silk shirt in a plastic bag in my closet is waiting in perpetual uncertainty to be worn.  I bet I would have worn it with my pink platform shoes on December 24, 1979 when I squeezed through the bars of my bedroom window and jumped and landed on the flower bed. Safi's welcoming tongue on my bare ankles gave me the go-ahead and her eyes shone with a glint of the moon as I approached the gate and the headlamps of the car waiting to steal me away to a birthday party in town, forbidden by Baba.
But alas, the purple and white silk shirt compressed in a storage bag is weary of my happily ever after, it begs me to unfold it, it promises not to disappoint the encroaching years and my big boobs; it promises to steady my grip as I approach the doorway to the memories that form me.


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