8.18.20 Eleven is For …

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Eleven is made for wishes

for candied pinky-promises and bubble gum kisses

for glitter dusted falling stars and conversations with the moon

Eleven is made for flowered tea cups with sugar on tiny, silver spoons

for dreaming under Willow trees and listening to the wind

for finding shapes in silver-lined periwinkle clouds

Eleven is for giggling with friends at stories you’ve woven together

for blowing iridescent bubbles parading up to the sky

for strawberry frosted memories that taste sweeter every year

Eleven is for wildflower bouquets and whispered secrets

for campfire glowing toasted marshmallow stories

for crystal-eyed curiosity, and believing that magic still exists

Eleven is made for wishes precious

Eleven is made for you

3.14.18 Dreaming Like Yesterday

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Social activist and writer Arundhati Roy once asked, “If you’re happy in a dream, does that count?” I would say yes … a hundred times yes, because sometimes, when I’m dreaming like yesterday, I feel so very, truly alive.

As a little girl my parents always introduced my sister and I to classic movies. It wasn’t uncommon for us to watch Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals in-between our montage of day-to-day cartoons, and I have to say I love my parents for this, because it introduced me to a love affair I’ve been smitten over ever since.

Being able to ask my daughter, “Shall We Dance?” in the voice of The King and I and then parade around our kitchen … knowing the lyrics to “All or Nothing,” which I croon to my husband when he’s being difficult like Will in Oklahoma, or singing to myself, “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair,” when my son’s being so feisty I literally want to throw him into South Pacific … these are the cinematic wonders that keep me company through my days.

So yesterday morning, I found myself, literally Singing in the Rain; only unlike the Gene Kelley original, in my dream, I danced with a man who looked suspiciously like my husband – and kissed me the same way. I woke up smiling, stretching into the pre-dawn light with the sappy version of happy that only comes from moments where one twirl turns into two, and grinning lips linger on other grinning lips.

In reality, my Gene Kelley was humming in the shower, and I was able to curl under the blanket of dreams for ten more minutes … splashing in puddles, spinning umbrellas, and casting glances in anticipation of the next long dip.

If you’re happy in a dream it ABSOLUTELY counts … especially if you’re dreaming like yesterday.

Go to sleep dear ones.

Go dream.

Maybe I’ll see you there!

Elle