Weather: 61 degrees
What I’m listening to: The Journey, FM Radio
“Why can’t you fly now, mother?”
“Because I am grown up, dearest. When people grow up they forget the way.”
-J.M. Barie, Peter Pan
This summer as thousands of dandelions turn into seedy, feathery keepers of wishes, I’ve been pondering what it means to wish, to hope, to dream. I remember how easy it was as a child to pick a dandelion, make an outrageous – possibly courageous – wish and then, dash off to the next dandelion and do it all over again. My kids do this and I see the flicker of a secret wish in their eyes – the optimism, the naiveté, the pure, unadulterated sense of hope.
Where has mine gone, I wonder?
I don’t know the answer, perhaps because there are so many answers that only layered one upon the other do they shape the reason.
Is it because dreaming requires change?
Is it because hope demands risk?
Is it perhaps because my hopes and dreams became all wrapped up in my children long ago and I don’t know how to make wishes for myself any longer?
Or is it that I feel so very underserving of good things because wanting those things feels selfish and self-serving and wrong?
Is it because life is hard and wishing feels like an exercise in futility?
It’s all of these and so very much more. Because I am grown up, I am forgetting the way.
But, I still believe in dreams coming true, in hopes exceeded, in wishes fulfilled. I am willing to dream big for others, hope courageously for others, tell others that they are absolutely worth it. I just simply need to learn to do it for myself again, to give myself permission to make wishes and blow all my cares and objections away like dandelion seeds on the wind.
Here’s to giving flight to our dreams.
* * *
Bacon, brown sugar, rosemary, bleu cheese and a cast iron skillet may be the very best things to ever happen to a peach. Ever. I ate two of these over salad greens drizzled with balsamic and another two straight out of the pan. I could eat these any meal of the day all summer long and be one very happy girl.