maybe I can

trees and fields

I visited this tree on a walk recently.  It’s in a field behind where I grew up.  We used to spend hours… days and nights playing out there.  Building pretend worlds.  Stories of lives we would live.  My sister and brother.  Sometimes the kids from the neighborhood.   It’s a shorter walk these days.  Everything is smaller.  The pretend worlds are harder to imagine.  And I wish I could talk to that little girl with her freckles and her braids and her eyes that were still wide and innocent and a little too big for her face.  I wish I could  whisper in her ear, kind things.  True things.  Things to make her real world as beautiful as her pretend ones.  I wish I could make her feel that safe again.  That hopeful.  Maybe.  Maybe I can.

the courage to grow tomatoes

This morning I woke up and cried.  It’s spring and time for my dad to start growing his tomato plants.  He always gave me two.  And smiled when we put them in my car.  Because he knew I would try.  and probably fail.  but I would try.  again.  Like I did every spring.  And every summer, I would drive 45 minutes to take home big red tomatoes.  Off his plants.  I think he always held out hope that one day my plants would not only live but actually produce.    I want to try again, but haven’t made that trip to the nursery yet.  I don’t know why it’s so important…  It’s important…