Broken Pieces and the Unknown

A couple of weeks ago, I dreamed that I was working in the backyard and discovered a new treasure. I don’t remember what it was, but it was big. I felt the surprise and awe I did when I found the iron bench wrapped up and hidden in the star jasmine. Then, in the dream, as I continued to work in the yard, I unearthed more and more items. I awoke feeling the excitement and abundance I felt when I first realized our home was embedded in a garden of unfound treasure.

Days after the dream, a dead plant was removed from our yard, and the glass figure pictured above was revealed. It’s a remnant—a missing piece. When I look at it, I feel its loneliness for the other parts that make it whole. I wonder what it was before, and what it can be now.

As I type, I recognize the metaphors and connections to my life. I feel as though I’ve been in a stalled transition. A part of me is holding on to the familiarities of yesterdays. Another part is reaching toward tomorrow’s unearthed dawn.

Our summer was full. I opened a therapy office with a separate play therapy space. And, as a family, we took many adventures. These twin themes of work and play invited me to find a new balance as I reconnected with what it is like to run my own private practice office while also being determined to help my family connect—with themselves, each other, and nature.

Now, the boys are back in school for another year. They all seem happier than I remember them being in years—since we lived in North Carolina. As a family, we’re in a good place. A connected place.

I’ve been absent from writing—here—for too long. I was about to type that I had been absent from writing for too long, but I haven’t. In the past few months, I wrote a chapter for a book about disenfranchised grief. The book will come out in the summer of 2023. I reimagined two therapy books I abandoned years ago. Imagined a new one with a dear friend. I’ve written short creative non-fiction pieces. I’ve journaled. I’ve worked with a poet to bring along my style and begin to hone my poetry voice. Also, I’ve gotten a good start on a novel. So, as I type, I realize I haven’t been absent from writing. Just not here. And, yet, this is my favorite space to write.

I haven’t really figured out what here is.

Mostly, it’s a place for connecting. I make sense and meaning as inspired by my garden—my refuge and a gift. One that holds a message in its timing because I received it just when I needed it most.

This garden and its broken treasures are confirmations that no matter what feels missing, I’m in the right place. A place from which I have the support and holding to step into tomorrow’s dawn. And to unearth new treasures.

Miraculously, after recently experiencing two of the hottest days on record (116 degrees), tomorrow’s skies will rain relief to our droughted land.

Will you step into the unknown with me? Shall we dance in the rain?