Wednesday Morning

For the past 12 months I have lived with confusion, uncertainty, anxiety and pain. Yes, there was joy, as weeds grow through the cracks of city streets, there was, is, always joy.

For the past 12 months there has been a weight in my heart, a weight so heavy that I could not deny its presence. I chose to stop, to open my eyes wide and look.

For the past 12 months I have come from confusion to clarity, but the weight in my heart remained heavy.

For the past 12 months I have let go of old dreams and created new ones. And there was one I was certain would come true.

For the past 12 hours I have grieved the loss of a dream I held for the past 12 months. Because a dream isn’t begged for; it isn’t pained for, it isn’t chased after. A dream is offered like a gift given with a willing hand.

For the past 12 years I have gone from seeing the road as a blank canvas on which to paint my world, to seeing people I love die without warning, men play with countries as if they were toys, and children devastated by war. For the past 12 years, although there has also been joy, I have been derailed.

For the past 12 hours I have grieved the loss of a dream I held for the past 12 months. I sat alone in the darkness of my room and listened to the painfully sweet sounds of the Tabla, an album given to me for my birthday, one that has undeniably become the theme for this time in my life. And I sent out a prayer, a silent thanks, to the man who gave me this gift. He could not have known what it would mean to me, or how it would sing the song that is inside my heart. He could not have known, when he made his selection and lovingly sent it over the ocean, what comfort it would bring to me now. Nor could he know all that he did for me 12 months ago when he picked up the phone to say hello.

For the past 12 months I have held a dream, and for the past 12 hours I have let it go. Because the dream I have need not be forced, asked for, begged for, pained for. My dream will offer itself, it will rest on me as softly as a first kiss and will remain as close as the palm of my hand.

For the past 12 hours I let go of a dream and I embraced a new one. A dream I will not have to seek, a dream that, in time, will find me. And I’ll need not pain, I’ll need not cry, I will only need to embrace my joy and move through my days, and like the weeds that force their way through cracks in the city streets, I will find my place... I will find my place.