I am dreaming. Of all the things. The things They said I couldn’t have, couldn’t be. And yet I can and I do have them. See me here? Having the things?
But still, there is more. And it is time to ask.
I am dreaming of mountains and desert evenings. Of sunsets that stain skies as though they were the Constable’s of the clouds. Of porches with views of golden fields and empty pages.
I am dreaming of open space and hugs that I’ve not yet had but can already feel the warmth of.
I am dreaming of creating more, more, more. Of working with hearts that inspire me and tempt me and remind me of all that is available and attainable.
I am dreaming of the sweet breeze of more financial freedom. Of taking this work of mine and traveling with it. Of circles of women who hold space and pour tea, or wine, or love. Who release and renew and rise together.
I am dreaming that my marriage will last long years. That I will know these sounds and tender exchanges for all the forevers. This creative partnership. This challenge and growth. That time will not take what I have so gratefully found.
I am dreaming of justice to occupy all the spaces from which it remains absent.
I am dreaming of the cover of my book and what it will feel like to hold it in my hands. The fierce pride. The beautiful knowing that I can spill over into something and I will be held and carried and safe.
I am dreaming of all the things.