A few months back, I mentioned how the little bougainvillea tree my husband and I planted at our new house survived Hurricane Ian. She bent and bowed and lost all her flowers and leaves, but still held on. Once the storm was over, we straightened and re-staked her. We looked for buds but didn't see any. We fertilized and watered her. We checked for new growth. We spoke to local experts. Ultimately, we had to face the fact our little bougainvillea tree was gone.
I know I'm being a giant, sappy, silly goose. The world has so much worse going on, and here I am, all emotional about a tree. It's just she felt symbolic – of our new home, a new chapter in our lives, hope, brightness, and strength during storms. And now, that space in the front yard just feels . . . empty.
That's kind of how I feel as this year winds down. While I am incredibly grateful for so much, I've struggled a lot – with physical/mental/emotional health, with focus, with energy, with creativity and writing.
But as an optimistic realist . . . or a realistic optimist . . . or just a plain stubborn fool, I keep going, keep trying.
Maybe I'll go ahead and let that space just be for awhile, let it fill itself with whatever it needs – breath, peace, sun, wind. Or maybe I'll put a container garden there, one full of fun purple flowers or funky prickly cacti. Or maybe a garden gnome . . . or two . . . or three.
All of us here at The Shellshank Redemption hope your new year provides the space and time to breathe when you need it,
the stakes to support you when you bend,
and positive growth full of beauty and brightness.
*** Happy Holidays! ***
*** See you in 2023! ***
