I aspire to be the steady trajectory of a creode yet my Homo Sapien self settles into a homeostasis of disinterested listlessness. What will I “do?” Who should I “be?” Two weeks past, I walked the botanical gardens with three close friends and two kids. Kids need to eat, so we ate lunch in the atrium. The table grew a crop of floribund crumbs from hot dog buns and overly dyed rainbow cake. As we were about to depart, two women at the next table called me over with the universal four-fingered “come here” gesture, the caress to the underbelly of the invisible sea lion that was the atmosphere. Both were bright of eye and grey of hair; two sisters who were retired teachers with nearly 90 years of experience between them.
iirc one of your close friends described you as a gardener, and i totally agree 💗 you see the thing in people which we wish to see in ourselves and you coax it out of us. call it teacher, mentor, gardener, what have you... whatever the label, it’s a joy to witness and be close to 🥲
I get this. Completely. Especially the element of purpose. Thank you for sharing your words and memories in a way that always triggers something in me as a reader.
iirc one of your close friends described you as a gardener, and i totally agree 💗 you see the thing in people which we wish to see in ourselves and you coax it out of us. call it teacher, mentor, gardener, what have you... whatever the label, it’s a joy to witness and be close to 🥲
Aw, thank you for this, and what a stellar memory. Yes, Danny called me a gardener. Thank you for seeing me and helping me see myself.
I get this. Completely. Especially the element of purpose. Thank you for sharing your words and memories in a way that always triggers something in me as a reader.
Thank you so much for this!