Thursday, September 24, 2009


By James Dillet Freeman
The flowers that blossom in the mind
Are fairer than the garden kind.
Though violets and roses seem
Beyond compare, the dreams you dream,
Though sometimes they are hardly more
Than half-unopened buds before
They start to fade away, more frail
Than touch-me-nots and moonflower pale,
Merer than mists, yet in them you
Catch glimpses of a truth more true
Than any outward forms can show,
A vision of what you may grow
To be, a beauty passing far
All you have, every thought you are.


As my fingers typed, my heart remembered this and sighed. It had touched me when I first read it in a Daily Word in the mid-90's. It fit then.

In fact, I had liked it so much that I typed it in a tiny font, cut it in to a 2" x 3" square, and carried it around in my wallet. I'd pull it out occasionally to reread his reassuring words. And to remind myself that there was never, is never, will never, be another one like me. To remind myself to keep the faith; that as we peeled away the layers of my onion, as I got more and more of the s--t out of the way, learned one more lesson, made one more amend, walked through one more door, I would not only be that vision, but I would feel like it, too.

It fits, still.

Today, it reminds me that my thoughts are gifts, precious and ephemeral, to be written down, cherished, cultivated, loved. I can let them fly by, or I can grab hold and give them life.

Which reminds me. I harvested my garden today. The crop was phenomenal, and I'm grateful for the fruit, but there's a hole in my heart where my plants were. I'll plant more next year. In fact, I've already started, planting broccoli, an artichoke, some bush beans. In time, the sadness will fade.

What does this have to do with growing? Who knows.

But, if the the point of growing is to flower and then fruit, I'm glad that God made me a perennial.

P.S. The anniversary of my mom's passing is approaching. I feel my heart contracting, tighter and tighter as the day approaches. This is my way. I will eat sweet things to keep from feeling too keenly. I will watch TV, write in my journal, listen to my Holosync meditation CD's.

I will go to the spa, see patients and get lost in their lives for a while, then come home, watch more TV, eat more sorbet. I watched Always last night, let loose and cried...and if Steel Magnolias or Beaches happen to be on when I'm surfing, I'll be there, watching, crying, sticking it out for the tough parts.

Because part of growing is learning to cry when we're sad, even if it takes a Ouiser.

And, you're right. The hole in my heart is not about the plants at all, but more about missing my Mama. To Mama.

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