5/23/16 RMB
Write. Blossom.
Dear Rita Mae
Brown,
Somehow I’ve
found myself at a loss for words, letter-less days have passed. I actually sat
down to write the other day and this is how far I got:
5/18/16 Write.
Yep, that’s it.
As a matter of fact, it didn’t even have the period after it. I just added
that. It seemed fitting. Although, perhaps it should say “Write Period”.
And now I’m
editing my work consisting of only one word. At least the content doubled.
Days have
passed during which magical wet stuff has dropped from the sky and blessed the
California lands, politicians have been politicking, and life continues in all
its glory. There is a wealth to rave about, so much to be enjoyed and
criticized.
But, can words
decrease the noise? Encourage those, so caught up in their own voice, to
listen? Reveal life’s glory? Hmm.
The eldest of
my nephew trio is knee deep in teen years. After a particularly bad morning
with the mom’s, we sat at a New Olean’s café smack in the middle of Spring
Valley, California.
“Look at the
flowering plants around us.” I said. “We can learn from them. They made it
through the drought. After all those dry days of doing anything they could to
hold on.” I made fists with both hands and held my arms close to my body,
scrunched up, huddled against the elements.
“Look what happened.” I opened up my arms and lifted my head. “They are making flowers. They are so happy, their showing off all their colors.”
“I know it's
tough being a teen. But one of these days. That will be you.” He seemed to
lighten up. “You got this. You can do this. Go make a flower.”
Last week, on
his own, he cleaned his room. A milestone. It looks good. His flower has very
cool colors.
We, as in all
of us, we got this. We can do this. Together we can make some awesome flowers.
Blossoming,
Loraine
PS. A synonym
for “blossom” is “mature” for plants, maybe for people too.
