Plant the Seed and Watch it Grow

Thanks to fellow Red Room neighbor Michael Seidel for inspiring this post.

I had so many dreams as a child. I wanted to be a nurse, a teacher, and a Native American princess like Pocahontas. 

I loved to pretend and I loved to read. I often fantasized that I was one of my favorite book characters.  It's no surprise that many of these characters loved to write.

So, the seed was planted.

I told stories long before I ever attempted to put anything on paper.  A few teachers enjoyed my stories and poems, but I never really believed I could write.

The dream withered on the vine.

I moved on and found work, got married, had a family, but the dream was not dead.

It lay dormant  for years and then sprung into life. 

My mind, freed from the daily grind of work, but not content to sit idle, began to churn out stories and ideas and heavy, swirling thoughts. I needed to get them out of my head and onto a page. 

I began to keep a journal, then another and then another. I recorded memories from my childhood; I wrote little poems and attempted to jot down stories.

The dream was there all along, hidden beneath all of the compost of daily life, but the soil was enriched and the dream was able to grow again, and flourish.

There is still so much to learn. It is a continual growing process, but I love the fact that I'm blossoming.