The doorway opens. Heartbeat to heartbeat Seeds clutched in my hand Waiting to be sowed Not knowing what lies ahead. Seeds are like ideas and words. Some have a way of Flowing into the heart and mind. Germinating into core beliefs, A shared memory or story. Where it originated Sometimes a mystery. Seeds can root into an entire story whose words and thoughts can empower and create growth. Some stories have to be Pruned back to allow in more light And space for new growth to take shape, To embody and take root. It all starts with a little seed. A seed in my heart that germinates into thought, Speech and the written word. Those fruits can then be passed From me to you. An offering from the heart.
I remember our solo shopping trips to K-Mart. It was just for a couple of hours And I was my mom’s shopping buddy, Helping to push the cart and being surrounded by endless options available in the aisles. A girl could get lost for an hour or two Just browsing and dreaming in the toy department. After our shopping was complete, We would go get an Italian grinder to share. It was always a highlight and bittersweet Because it meant our shopping trip was coming to an end. Plus, shopping always gives me an appetite. And not just for the potential goods and wares But the fulfillment that each item promises. I wonder what memories I’m creating today That my children will cherish into their adulthood. We never know what impression will make its mark When we’re living the moment in real-time as it occurs. It’s only in hindsight and reflection That our memories get formed and shaped Later to be accessed again at a future date. To be determined. We never know when a scent, a sound or a view will recall that memory back into focus to embody that time and space once again.
I don’t remember being born or how I came to be. I arrived and here I am. I don’t remember the very early years, So dependent on my mom. Her love, her safety The spaces we occupied. My first memory I remember is when I was two. My siblings and I were playing with a plastic toy house. My uncle blew cigarette smoke through the second-story windows. It was such a delight to see the shape, the form the floating vapors that defied gravity. I remember winters of sledding down the hill in the backyard on my mom’s childhood Flying Arrow sled. The joy and momentum of the downhill slope. I remember our swing set with metal frames and hard plastic seats that brought me to far away places only in my mind. I remember learning to roller skate for the first time. Clinging to the side wall as I found my balance, my courage, and eventually my confidence to skate on my own with grace and speed. There are so many moments that I may not remember. But the ones I do are cherished. And they connect me to my siblings and stand the test of time as they shaped and formed who I am today.
The past is the past thankfully and sorrowfully so. We have today's gifts and connections, conversations and hearts to grow. Let go of yesterday's hurts. They cannot touch you here. No matter their lull, their yearning, their harsh or loving memory. Let's make new ones today so that our wells may overflow with a life well-loved and well-lived. Let the past be the past. It cannot touch me here in the now. I know this, yet sometimes need a reminder While ruminating and caught in a memory. To snap back to reality. To be nostalgic is okay. Let's make today a great day.
Remember the scent of the lilacs. How the air just embodied their aroma and drifted it into the windows into my lungs. Remember when they were teeny tiny buds. How 5-year old Lilly marveled at their small size. Little purple bumps bursting from the green. Remember the Easter lilies and this was the first year I got so low to the ground I could actually smell them for the first time. Remember the towering orange iris. Remember the hearty rosebush. Remember the mimosa tree that once stood proud, colorful and fragrant. Now an empty shell. Bare branches. The weakened trunk sways with a gentle push. Remember the dogwood’s white blossoms and Lilly called the neighbor’s pink blossoms “flower snow” as they fell and covered the ground in small piles of soft pink. Remember the woodpecker, the cardinal, the new birds that decided to stop by for a visit. Remember the bunny rabbit, like Old Faithful, arrives around dinner time looking for her evening meal as well. Remember the hawk perched on top of the playset as a squirrel huddled and hid under the child’s chair unmoving and the hawk ever patient. Remember the blue jays that harassed and chased that hawk away and the squirrel that timidly crawled commando style and lived another day. Remember the sweet breeze from the ocean even reaching here not so close to the shore and how I marveled at the salty refreshing air. Remember the first kiss. The special rock overlooking the bay and our life began together. Remember that tender beginning love is still here under the surface. A beloved memory but always here in my heart.