5.29.23 Stained Glass

I believe in light

in the relentless pursuit of it

knowing that I can’t get too lost

if I continue to follow the trail of gilded hope

even when it fades

But sometimes …

sometimes the fog rolls in,

a hazy day monotony of “Where am I now?” grays

They sweep in, nonchalantly dusting my glinted path in a “Nothing personal” muted power play

And suddenly,

all the wishing on second stars

on eyelashes and dandelion breezes

don’t feel strong enough, when they always were before

I don’t understand

sometimes

why the things that matter most

the ethereal whims

and wishes

and prayers

aren’t more immediately powerful

when they are what I believe in most

when they are what I feel

I don’t want to be practical

or realistic

I don’t want to belong to

just

one

cause

or become a cliche who takes care of herself first–

because I’m the only one I can depend on

Whether it is true or not

I don’t want to live the way that particular truth would demand

so instead,

I might stay a bit lost for a while

spinning like a brass compass needle uncertainly finding her way

north

even if the wind keeps me in a temporary state of rearranging

maybe my pieces will come back together

brighter

maybe I’m a stained glass window

bits of fragile colored pieces

just waiting to catch the light

just waiting to illuminate the bigger picture

3.29.23 Hers Is

Hers is a heart that is read slowly

written in calligraphy

by hand

in curated curls 

in stretched out thoughts

in letters chosen with particular intention

Hers is a mind that is beautiful 

laced with a lattice of memories

layered with wishes and whims

it is busy

and brilliant

and brave

Hers is a spirit that is golden

drenched in hope and embroidered with elements of the divine

prayers echoed

petitioned

whispered

and sealed 

Hers is a life that is lovely

parceled and planned 

detailed and deliberated over

and yet

there … 

in the innermost corner

lies a spark of adventure

a dream that is barely an inkling

but present

persistent as a firefly

bright and promising more 

than even she

had planned for herself 

3.18.23 7 Letters I Can’t Send: Dear Serendipity

“Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together? 
Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences.” 
― Emery Allen

Dear Serendipity,

I asked my daughter who I should write to today, and without a moment’s hesitation, she said it should be you. You, the curious combination of meant-to-be mistakes and fortunate accidents. I have to admit that I have been an absolute enthusiast of your work for as long as I can recall believing in wishes. You are the personification of Fate dancing with Chance, only to be tapped on the shoulder so that Destiny could cut in. It is remarkably romantic to imagine this waltz of circumstances twirling in and between whim and what-if.

I wish I could ask you how much you get to decide. I wish you’d highlight the reels of relationships that have been affected by your charms. But then, I suppose that would spoil a bit of the subtle clandestinity of it all. As such, I guess you will have to keep your dream-come-true-drenched secrets. I imagine they are written in calligraphic scripts, dated with invisible ink and locked in a weighty silver box with tiny claw feet. Of course there is a key–but it will have been lost to Father Time for safe-keeping.

Regardless, I have a few things to thank you for … a few twinklings I know to be your handiwork:

• The one and only time I saw the northern lights
• The night I decided to go out and met the love of my life, even if I couldn’t know it at the time
• The mistakes that gave me the courage to get stronger
• The friendships I decided to pursue, even when life was pulling us apart
• The moments I happen to see a tangerine harvest moon, a blue-tailed shooting star, or a dancing parade of pink clouds

You, Serendipity, are the fairy dust of life, and oh, how I enjoy your sparkle.

3.17.23 7 Letters I Can’t Send: Dear Stars

“Not just beautiful, though–the stars are like the trees in the forest, alive and breathing. And they’re watching me.”
― Haruki Murakami

Dear Stars,

I am simply writing to tell you that I love you. I love you so much, and I have for absolutely ever. From the time I was a little girl, my mom taught me that I should give compliments when I feel them. If that is true, I should have whispered this to you or sung it to the sky a million times before.

There are so many things about you that are magical and meaningful, but I think I can sum it up quite simply. You give me the space to dream, and for a dreamer like me … the kind that requires a lot of room to spread her thoughts, and wonderings, and whims, I can’t tell you how much I adore you for it.

But the thing I love most, is the way you are the guardians of wishes. Collecting them from every corner of every hemisphere until you are swollen with a million, glowing possibilities … until you are so heavy with hope that you fall, giving the assurance of dreams coming true.

Thank you stars.

For cascading silver dust.

For the language of light.

For holding the history of the world in a billion crystal particles across the floor of heaven.

Did I mention how much I love you?

3.15.23 7 Letters I Can’t Send: Dear Poetry

“Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.” – Carl Sandburg

Dear Poetry,

To put it quite simply. Thank you. Thank you for always giving me a place to sit with my thoughts. You never rush me, or force me to explain myself. You let me invite only the words I want to entertain, and give me just enough space to get cozy with them. You allow me reflection and pause. You not only inspire me … you give my voice a platform.

Somehow, you always find a way to turn my chaos and confusion into stanzas that make sense. You block and build, settle and swell. And even though sometimes you take the long route to take shape–you are always lovely and dressed just exactly right for whatever mental occasion I’ve invented.

With or without the accessory of punctuation, the confines and constructs of labels and rules, even there you are the elegant expression of every emotion a story would be too watered-down with words to tell. Thank you for your gravity … for grounding wild hearts and wandering minds. Thank you for giving my fleeting thoughts a place to land and my imagination the space to expand.

You are the last ringing note of the song of my spirit, and for that, I love you.

3.14.23 7 Letters I Can’t Send: Twelve-Year-Old Me

Dear Twelve-Year-Old Me,

Hello there dolly. (I’ll call you that, because your gram does, and I know how much you love it.) Oh, precious. Where to begin with you. I could talk to you for pages and pages. If I knew you’d get this, I’d take the time to do it … alas, you will not. Still, let’s have a go at just a couple of topics, shall we?

First off, it might not always seem like it right now (I know it doesn’t), but your life is pretty charmed. You might have big glasses before they’re cool, bangs that don’t suit you at all, and headgear to go with your braces–but you’re still one lucky girl. You have a mom and a dad who support your whimsy and wit, who encourage your curiosity, creativity, and endless questions. Let me tell you, that is more of a gift than you can possibly imagine. Remember as much as you can about home, because it will become your anchor.

You know how you like to write journals and poems and prompts? Well, it’s more than just a phase. Keep writing. And save the drama for the page. When things are meant to be, they will be. I know how much you like to fantasize and daydream about forever, but don’t miss “for now.” For now is a lot of fun, and it’s the path to knowing yourself enough to make the right decisions later.

Speaking of right decisions–no, you didn’t meet him yet, but you will in a few years. I promise. And girl … he’s worth waiting for. Think sea-green eyes and a wolfish smile with a kind heart and brilliant brain. How you might ask? I’ll let you wait on fate for that one. It’s more fun if you don’t know.

There are a couple of things you already got right though. Your best friends don’t change. She stays. He stays. And you are better for knowing both of them. Your sister (who you idolize), you will someday find feels the same way about you! Your cousin remains “your person” forever. And your love of adventure and nature will take you across the world.

So chin up little one. Embrace the awkward–it will teach you to be humble. Laugh at the mistakes–you’ll make worse ones. Love yourself now–it’ll help you love me later. And above all, be grateful. You’ve got a beautiful journey ahead.

3.12.23 7 Letters I Can’t Send: Dear Elliot

“. . . sometimes one feels freer speaking to a stranger than to people one knows. Why is that?
Probably because a stranger sees us the way we are, not as he wishes to think we are.” 
― Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind

Dear Elliot,

I know that you will never receive this letter, but that didn’t make me want to send you one any less. I wanted to thank you for taking the time to talk to me the other day as we were both waiting in line for our orders. You were so polite, asking, “Excuse me?” Before then following up with the essential question, “Do you have dogs?” I think that is an excellent question, and I wish more people would kindly-interrupt one another to ask important questions like that. I was so happy to hear that you were not only excited to know their names, but also interested to know mine. There is power in a name, Elliot, and I am so grateful you shared your name with me, because I will not soon forget it. Or your smile. Or your red jacket. Or your cool glasses frames. Or the fact that you are seven (which is my favorite number, by the way).

To be honest, Elliot, I was sad to get my order so fast, because I really enjoyed talking to you. I know your parents thought I was, “being kind,” but they were wrong. I was not being kind, I was genuinely interested in your questions and enjoying your precious company. You broke my heart in the most precious way when you shook my hand goodbye, and then reached your arms out for a hug right after. THANK YOU! Thank you for taking the time to give me that essential gift.

As I left, I was wishing that I had a reason to turn around. I was SO grateful that I remembered I had picked up a smooth stone earlier in the day and put it in my pocket. I don’t normally pick up stones, but something about that one was special–like you, and it gave me just the excuse I needed to turn around and see you one more time. Thank you for receiving it as the treasure I meant for it to be. Thank you for understanding me.

I hope that no matter how many sevens you get to live in this life, you remember this seven. You remember how fundamentally important it is to keep meeting people. Keep capturing their attention with those bright, hopeful, curious eyes. Keep asking them if they have dogs, and what their names are. Keep following up handshakes with hugs (which are undeniably more important). And Elliot, dear boy, keep being you. No one could ever do it better.

All my love,

Elle

2.23.23 Earned

I like the holes I earn myself–the worn denim jacket and the life I had to live with just enough fray to make it happen. I like the scars that tell stories and the incidents and accidents that turn into tales.

The more I see of life, and the more I genuinely, intentionally try to live it, the more I see that we are given so many opportunities. Every day. Every week. Sometimes minute-by-minute. We are given first and second chances, happen-by encounters, and “fancy meeting you here” moments that offer us glimmers of possibility. Like catching the glint off of a fallen penny, waiting head’s up for you to claim its luck, these opportunities shine coppery-gold, the color of hope personified. 

So what about you … what holes are you going to punctuate into your imperfect, beautiful life?

Elle

2.7.23 Seven Small Truths: Day Seven

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow.” Mary Jean Iron

So here we are … day seven of seven days of mini truths. As important as all of the admissions I’ve shared have been to me, I think this one might be one of the most true and most necessary for us all to acknowledge, if for no other reason than to prove that we need one another.

DAY SEVEN Truth: Heaven is entirely too far away. Recently, I had a sweet follower ask me if I had any pieces I’d suggest she read to help her healing heart … she shared with me that she was still desperately missing her husband who passed away. My spirit entirely shattered, because what do you say? I have written about loss so many times over the years, and yet there is no consolation for grief that does more than offer a fleeting moment of warmth in the seemingly endless cold.

My faith has been the only consolation that ever offered me any peace–knowing that this is not the end of the story … the relationship … the love. Knowing that on the other side of the star-dusted sky lies another chapter, another conversation, another chance to hold and be held across the galaxy. To me, so many times, that promise has kept my broken heart beating.

Whenever someone I care about loses someone they love, I pray that their memories remain fresh and present. I pray that their dreams be vivid and their sensorial recollections be distinct. It is never enough … but maybe, just maybe, it will suffice one more day. And if I, myself, am missing one of the loves of my life to the point I can hardly bear it–I pretend. I tell myself that I’ll see them soon–that we’re only a memory apart.

I believe our imaginations can be holy … that if we open ourselves up to the divine we were designed to hold, heaven inches closer to us. Let hope be your light. It will be enough.

2.6.23 Seven Small Truths: Day Six

“I promise if you keep searching for everything beautiful in the world, you will eventually become it.” Tyler Kent White

I find that I am starting to worry that I have too much to say to squeeze into only seven days of small truths. There are so many things I have begun to realize about myself, and this life, and the people I am able to have as a central part of it. As funny as it seems, I feel like the more I look back on my string of days, of important milestones and golden moments, it is never the events I plan for that end up being the memories that stay.

DAY SIX Truth: It is the unplanned, unremarkable moments that leave the most significant impressions. Though I am the product of a million, magically curated memories … from walking down the aisle and long-planned vacations, to orchestrated family photos and budgeted-for purchases finally realized–none of those make the final cut in the reel of my wandering mind. Instead, I find myself eyes-closed-captured by the moments I wouldn’t even have used my imagination to invent.

What a curious thing to realize that to this day, after twenty years of being together, one of the best days I ever had with my husband was a random Tuesday the first year we were married. We both took off of work and did everything and nothing at all. We went to a movie … we visited a caramel apple store … we walked the Hallmark-esque downtown street of the small town we were married in. And yet I remember it all, every sun-dappled sidewalk step.

What a revelation to acknowledge that even after all this time, the best part of teaching is when I receive an email from a kiddo who just needs to know I’m still there, like I promised I would be.

It took some looking back to realize, that as fun as they were, it was not the elaborate birthdays or graduations we plotted and perfected, but the freezing sideways-sleet soccer games, the dessert dates after dance practices, and the chocolate milk and toast Saturdays that would occupy the grandest places of my heart.

I thank God for the unplanned impressions–for the four leaf clover moments and puddle splashes. I thank him for the curled kitty sleeping on my lap and the puppy kisses I never deserve, but get anyway. I thank Him for the elaborate high-five routines and inside jokes that we can’t even remember the start of. For the first stars to catch my wishes, and the sound of the wind in the trees.

Yes … here’s to the best moments you never saw coming.

Please tell me one of yours!

Elle