I love listening to little boy dreams. I need to stop more often... for more moments... to hear them with my heart... these aspirations soaring above clouds, above obstacles, above limitations. Eyes dance. Words race fast. One thought building on the one before, as if constructing life bricks this second out of sheer breath and lamp light.
When does that stop?
When do we stop dreaming? Reaching? Building?
When do we stop seeing beyond what others have done, beyond what others think of us, beyond temporary barriers? When do we stop growing? Why?
And the mama? When I grow up... I want to have a farm, travel the world, and publish books that touch mama hearts. I want to hold tiny hands and tender hearts around the world... fragile souls breaking for someone to listen. (I'd better write these dreams into the business plan.) When I grow up... I want to be the grandma that bakes cookies and rocks babies and drinks life as slow as the back porch swing on a summer day.
And in the meantime... I have an amazing dream right here in my lap... being the mama who plays hide and seek, washes clay from jeans, reads bedtime stories and listens to little boy dreams rising higher every day.
So... what about when you grow up?
From my heart,