cotton & clocks {118}

another Monday.

but this one is different. 

on this day, i will only share one blessing of my thousands. my list will grow, but only by one.

because today marks two years. 

two years since we said i do. 

two years since i awoke to four girls singing going to the chapel at my drowsy bedside.

two years since we raced here and there on a bitterly cold October day from salon to house to church and back again sixteen times.

two years since he took my hand and never looked back.
two years since i tripped going up the aisle because i stepped on my hem.

two years since my father made his address behind my back since he made the promise "not to cry in front of me."

two years since we became man and wife. 

two years of tears. laughter. heartache. hospital visits. picnics. hardships. sunrises and sunsets.

this is my blessing. #118.

my man. my soulmate.

my "broom," as my autotext just accidentally referred to him.

my husband. 
happy anniversary, baby.

i love you.

mummy

photo by PinkStudios Photography

today, my mum turns 50. 

honestly, i have a hard time believing that's true.

maybe it's because i just can't see my mom aging. or maybe it's because she hasn't changed hardly a bit since i was a little girl.

of course, she's updated her hair and her wardrobe choices

the credit for this can primarily be given to my little sister

burning the black and pink-floral stirrup pants

and modernized shopping sprees

but honestly, she hasn't changed. 

she's still my mommy. she's still the one that brought us coffee in bed and read us books every morning, even though we didn't always want to take part. 

she's the one that surprised us all several years ago when she ran break-neck speed up a hill to play an improptu game of hide-'n'-seek while we were out for a walk.

she's the one that does the funny faces, the "ostrich neck," and attempted to do the cupid shuffle on our Florida vacation.

she's the one that laughs so hard that she can't stop. 

who can't be tickled, or else she gets injured (every single time). the one who takes forever to pack for vacation, and then brings enough for a month on a week-long vacation. 

she's the one who passionately loves my father, and has worked alongside him for more than 25 years. 

she's the one i still call when my heart aches. she's the one known for a listening ear and a tender heart. 

her prayers shake the world.  

her children will rise up and call her blessed.

mummy, i am rising up and calling you blessed. 

you have done wonderously. you have walked the path to heaven, and we are following you close behind. i am so glad to have you in my life, to call you Muvver and Mummy and Mummy Dearest. 

thank you for adopting me. thank you for opening your heart to another woman's child. thank you for following the call of God and marrying Daddy. thank you for making us a family. 

thank you for loving me regardless. thank you for wanting me. for caring for me. for being everything you are and have been to me. 

happy birthday, mummy.

 i love you

greatness.

Walking on the moon. They said we couldn't ever.

He walked on the water.

Artificial heart values, prosthetic eyes, mechanical limbs. They said it was "against nature."

He healed the sick. Gave sight to the blind. Made the lame walk again.

We fiddle with concepts of life support and how to save those we love from death.

He spoke, "rise," and the dead opened their eyes.

We seek selfishness, how can we love without giving anything of ourselves? No commitment, no attachment.

He let Himself be ripped apart, bled dry, and tortured to death...all because of Love.

We weep and plead at the end of our lives, wailing in fear "this is the end. There is no more."

"Death is swallowed up in victory....where is your victory, oh, Death, where is your sting?"

I serve a bigger God than this. I serve a King above all others. I have a Father forever to hold my hand. 

I follow Jesus. 

To the ends of the earth and back again.

Tracks

I travel not to go anywhere, but to go.  I travel for travel's sake.  The great affair is to move.  ~Robert Louis Stevenson

So many things in this world captivate the poet in me.

So many little things that go unnoticed by most...somehow, they draw me in, whispering for me to tell their story and share the truths locked within their silent beating hearts.

I don't dare turn a deaf ear to their pleas.

Train tracks sing such a song to me...one that I simply cannot ignore.

They speak of so many things...

 -- of strength, for how many courageous brides clutched their carpet bags to their chests as the clicking of the wheels drew them closer and closer to their yet-unmet grooms...

When Jacob saw Rachel...he kissed her on the mouth and began to weep.

-- of bravery, for how much youths gaze upon the train doors, worn suitcases at their feet, preparing to carry their broken souls and sunken eyes home to aching-hearted parents with white ribbons tied to trees...

Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you.

-- of love, for how many pairs of hands have brushed from window to platform, with now only letters to  keep them together...how many hands returned empty, and how many brushed palm-to-palm again with silver and gold bands to caress one against the other. 

Place me as a seal over your heart...for love is as strong as death. 

Yes, train tracks speak of so many wonders. The burdens they bear are full to the brim with so many stories of love and loss, of seats cracked with snuggling and windows stained with tears of longing and brokenness. 

Train tracks sing these powerful melodies...

...melodies best not ignored. 

And there is the headlight, shining far down the track, glinting off the steel rails that, like all parallel lines, will meet in infinity, which is after all where this train is going. ~Bruce Catton

(Don't forget to enter DramaticElegance's current whimsical giveaway, running until the end of August 2011.)

Stitch

Take your needle, my child, and work at your pattern; it will come out a rose by and by.  Life is like that - one stitch at a time taken patiently and the pattern will come out all right like the embroidery.  ~Oliver Wendell Holmes

I am not a seamstress.

Not by any stretch of the imagination.

People often ask me why I don't have a shop on Etsy. While I do have an Etsy account, I tell them that I could never have a shop because my gifts are not something you can sell.

I cannot bottle my voice, sell my poetry as a garment, or send some moment in theater baked into a lump of divine chocolate goodness.

All of that to say, I cannot sew.

I was not one of those homeschooled girls who threw herself into the world of fiber, needles, and intricate stitching. It just never interested me all that much, despite how hard my grandmother tried to lure me into the magical land of her sewing room.

I wanted to like sewing...it fascinated me, but i never found myself called into this world like so many others.

But yesterday, all that changed.

I went to the store and made a few small purchases: five yards of red and white satin, needles, pins, two spools of thread, and a small spool of black ribbon.

I sat down on the floor, took a deep breath, and proceeded to spend the next eighteen hours in the world of the seamstress.

And finally, from the ashes of well-poked fingers and sore hands,

...from staying up until 2am to the welcome accompaniment of the fourth season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer...

...a beautiful two-sided superhero cape was born.

I could not be more proud of my pattern-less creation...for all of its lopsided and crooked stitching, random moments of gathered lumps, and maybe one or two blood drops from my own battle wounds.

And as I stared at this creation...once only a pile of fabric and miscellaneous materials, now something wonderful and beautiful...I heard the whisper of my King.

See. I am making all things new. 

See, I am making you new. 

You are My creation. 

You are beautiful. You are perfect. You are Mine.

And oh, how I love you. 

I am His creation. He poured labour into me. He poured all of Himself into me...yes, even His blood. 

And I am His. 

And He gazes on me with pride. 

I see crooked stitches.

He makes my way straight.

Stitch by stitch.

"See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland." ~Isaiah 43:19

Respuesta (Answer)

I have no special talents.  I am only passionately curious.  ~Albert Einstein

Questions are a marvel of mine.

There is something so provocative, so deeply poignant, found within the curious ponderings of the human mind.

It fascinates me.

And so now, as promised, I have come to answer the questions poised to me in this post by so many precious and equally curious minds: Jess, Ashley, Christina, Kelsey, and Hannah.

In short, I will be honest...straightforward.

Read if you will.

What is your favourite type of music? 

Truly, I enjoy all types of music, with the exclusion of heavy metal, excessive rap, and overly "twangy" country. Those who know me know that my favourite artists include Owl City, Breanne Duran, Imogene Heap, and Brooke Fraser. 

If you could travel to three places, where would they be?

Peru. 

India. 

Paris.

What was your happiest moment last year? 

 To chose just one? So incredibly difficult. 

I would have to say the birth of my beautiful niece...holding her and cuddling with her for the first time, only moments after her birth. Such a precious gift, and such a beautiful moment. 

A few of your favourite bloggers?

To make this list is so deeply complicated and so very difficult! 

I love every single one of my fellow bloggers...but those that top my list are Carlotta, Olivia, Rain, Jocee, Jess, Polka Dot, and Grace. 

Your pet peeves?

People that interrupt. Men that disrespect/make jokes that degrade women. Theatrical politics. Dripping faucets. Daily drama being made public. Phones ringing in movie theaters/playhouses/etc. 

Your pet loves?

Kisses on my face, forehead, and nose. My niece's smile. Hearing my love call me beautiful. The Book of Isaiah. British accents. Properly used grammar. Inca Cola & Dr. Pepper. Sunsets. Hand-written letters. The smell of new books.  Watching the face of the groom as the bride walks down the aisle. Laughter. My King. 

How do you write so well? Did you take a course? 

I do not write so well. I write my heart on the page, and you may do with it what you will. And no, I did not take a course or any sort of college education, save the classes I took during High School.

Where do you find the pictures that you have in your posts?

Unless otherwise captioned, all photos are taken from WeHeartIt. 

What is your favourite holiday?

Easter, hands down. 

Such love and glory magnified into one single day. The world can barely contain such beauty.

What are three of the books that influenced you and your writing the most, books that inspire you, books that make you who you are?

To only choose three? Difficulty personified. 

Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, J.K. Rowling

Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

I assumed the Bible was a given, as it and its Authour have transformed my life.

Which people, either living or dead, inspire you the most?

My grandfathers, one who is now with his King, and the other with whom I still cherish this lifetime.

My grandmothers, both beautiful and strong women who have prayed me into existence.

My birthmother. Flooded with courage. 

My mother. My model.

My father. My hero.

My sister. My best friend.

My love. My champion, and my Prince Charming.

My King. My Savior. My God. My Father.

If your house caught fire, which five items would be the most important for you to save?

My Bible.

My stuffed lamb, Lucy, which I have had since I was born. I love her. I am unashamed to admit this.

My laptop.

Other than these things, nothing else matters more than the lives of those whom I love and care about. If they are safe, I am the richest of women. 

White, dark, or milk chocolate.

Yes, yes, and yes. 

What is one without the others?

If you have read to the end of this post, I applaud your endurance...I value your curiosity.

If you have any other questions for me, never be afraid to ask them. There is always room for more answers, even if it takes another post to answer them 

Never stop searching for answers. 

You never know from whom and from whence they shall be found. 

Curiosity is little more than another name for Hope.  ~Augustus William Hare and Julius Charles Hare

Reflétant

Did you ever stop to think, and forget to start again?  ~Winnie the Pooh

Tonight, I am taking the time to think.

I'm not sure what it is about tonight that is causing my mind to become lost in thought.

Perhaps it is the fact that the sky is finally calm...after almost three days of storm-churned clouds and pounding rain.

Or that I had my second dose of the final Harry Potter movie tonight, and was reminded yet again just how much my heart belongs in the stone corridors of Hogwarts.

Maybe it was the taste of the entire pack of strawberry Twizzlers I slowly nibbled through this evening until the wrapper was empty and the fruity taste of the only member of the licorice family that I enjoy lingered gently on my lips.

Might it have been the growing list of questions that have begun to collect on my blog...brimming with untouched inspiration, awaiting  my answers in the coming days?

Perhaps it was the way I spent my day...curled on the couch in the company of three other women whom I greatly admire, laughing and weeping and learning together amid plates of summer salads and fresh-cut fruit.

Whatever the cause, my mind is lost in itself tonight.

I'm not even sure what I'm thinking about, to be honest.

I'm simply overflowing with the beauty of life.

My thoughts dazzle me, as though the stars had melted with my dreams, calling me to waltz with them tonight.

There is much to be said for the beauty speaking...

...but there is much unsaid for the elegance of secret thoughts.

And then, when the Empress ran aground / And my eyes turned blue and green, / I heard a gorgeous sound, / And that's when it became a dream / When the sky fell in, / When the hurricanes came for me, / I could finally crash again, / And that's how I became the sea. ~Owl City, How I Became the Sea

Bête (Beast)

"A beautiful thing is precious, no matter the price. Those who do not know how to see the precious things in life will never be happy." ~Beastly

Anyone who knows me knows that Beauty and the Beast is my favourite fairytale...my favourite love story...my favourite dream that teeters on the knife's edge between fiction and reality.

There have been hundreds of retellings of this classic tale of rose petals, magic, and the deepest value of inner beauty. One of my absolute favourite versions of this story was penned in this century...a hypnotic modern retelling that appeared first on the page, and then across the silver screen.

Beastly. 


The story of Kyle...strikingly handsome in face, popular and wealthy in lifestyle, and arrogant and cold in heart and soul. One word, one curse...and his flawless features are warped into the scarred, tattooed visage of a modern-day beast. Pushed aside by his horrified father, locked away in a house where none but his blind tutor and his loving housekeeper are witness to his "ruined" appearance.

The story of Lindy...a tenderhearted dreamer in love with roses, burdened by a careless father who makes one mistake too many. Swept into circumstances that lead her straight into Kyle's prison-palace...into a greenhouse full of roses...

...and love enough to break a curse.


I want nothing more than to press this book into the hands of every last human being on this planet...perhaps then a new view could be taken on appearance, on romance, on the realities of love.

Some fool has spread a rumor that women want a certain thing in a man. Strong muscles, masculine features, and a popular streak boosted with money and power.

Like I have said, the person who invented this mentality was a fool...and has passed his foolishness down to twist the minds of men and women both.

Knights don't always come wearing shining silver armour, prancing in atop a white horse...they don't always have perfect hair or flawless skin...they aren't always the most popular or the one with the most fantastic car.

What I care about is behind the helmet and steed.

I want to see the dents.

I want strength of character...depth of heart...eyes that see me and not my body's lack of perfection...hands that can carry me when I can't stand.

Am I the only one that thinks like this? Am I so very strange in my mindset?

If I am, correct me, please.

But not every woman is Cinderella. We don't all want Prince Charming.

Sometimes, all we are is Belle...

...and all we want is a Beast.

I just was scared that you didn't love me. And I didn't think you could because of how ugly I am. I should've known better. That's not who you are. You took one look at me and still said you'd seen worse. And somehow, when I'm around you, I don't feel ugly at all. ~Beastly 

Lundi (Monday)

I'll dissolve when the rain pours in / When the nightmares take me / I will scream with the howling wind / 'Cause it's a bitter world and I'd rather dream...Dizzy love turned a star lily pink / And hung above our lids too flushed to blink...I sang my princess fast asleep / 'Cause she was my dream come true...~Owl City, Lonely Lullaby

Once again, another Monday has come around the bend.

And once again, I feel blessed to have awoken this morning.

My decision to keep my Mondays positive (which can be read about more in this post) has been one of the more intriguing aspects of my week. All throughout the week, I've caught myself noting things that I could mention in regards to my "Monday morning blessings."

It's starting to make an impact on more than just the first day of the week.

The rest of my days are starting to catch up...

...for how can I be lost in my own despair when I am continually making note of those gifts which surround me each morning as I arise, and follow me through each movement of the earth around the sun?

• 8. Every single breath I take. (Yes, this one may seem to be rather cliche...however, with the occurances of this past week, particularly over the weekend...this is something for which I dare not fail to give thanks and count as a mighty blessing.)

• 9. Celebrating the end of an era with a small collection of my dearest and most nerdy of Harry Potter-head friends...and even making a few new ones as well...being able to weep openly in a room full of people who know exactly what I'm feeling, as they are all feeling it, as well

• 10. Having one dearest, loving companion in particular who poured themself out before our Father on my behalf...there is no greater honour, and no greater gift that I could receive than to be lifted to the Throne when I myself am too weak to stand.

• 11. The continual blessings I have received regarding July's Inspirational Giveaway, and all those giveaways that are yet to arrive in the coming months

• 12. Finding my missing silver Hedwig earring! Yes, perhaps this is a small thing, but I had been looking for this small treasure for quite some time, and it reappeared right next to my toe after almost two weeks of searching.

• 13. A book read so many times that the pages are worn, and the corners are dog-eared with love. 

• 14. Beautiful, odd, and melodramatic dreams of brilliant colours and unspoken wishes...filling my nighttime hours with sweetness instead of screams.

Yes, perhaps this is an odd collection of beauty.

But these are my blessings, and I will continue to count them until I run out...

...which I know will never occur.

 "When I'm worried / and I can't sleep / I count my blessings / instead of sheep / and I fall asleep / counting my blessings..." ~Irving Berlin, Count Your Blessings (White Christmas)

Treasure

"Our hearts are drunk with a beauty our eyes could never see." ~George W. Russel

This past week has been full of summery joys.

The delight of spending seven days on a farm, surrounded by perfectly green fields and more serene emptiness than I can even speak of in one breath...

...spending the sweet moments compiling my inspirational Etsy treasuries, filled with beautiful treasures that draw me in and make my fingers flutter with anticipation...

...losing myself in the pages of The Order of the Phoenix, never allowing myself to wander too far from Hogwart's gates...

...finding myself overwhelmed with the feedback for July's beautifully continuing giveaway, counting down the days until it comes to its end and the winners might receive their sparking gems...

...curling onto wooden porch steps and allowing the gentle pitter-patting of twenty-four kitten paws to wander across my arms, lap, and shoulders, finding innocent joy and comfort in their snuffling pink noses and tiny mews.

These summer weeks are the ones I love the most.

I feel as though I've written a thousand posts on the joy of summertime, and the little delights to be found in every single day within these blissful months. And honestly, you might all find yourselves becoming sick of my summery ramblings.

But I feel as though I've barely started to lift the guilded lid of the treasure chest that this warm and balmy season has deposited on my doorstep.

I don't want to put down my pen. I want to chronicle every moment of this bliss.

I want to lose myself in film and ink and compacted charcoal sticks.

I never want to let this book end or the pages become brittle from lack of touch.

There is much more to dream.

Much more treasure to seek.

Call me a gypsy.

Call me a summertime pirate.

I will walk this path, barefoot with flowers in my dark wavy hair...

...forever seeking this treasure, which we call summer.

Beauty deprived of its proper foils and adjuncts ceases to be enjoyed as beauty, just as light deprived of all shadows ceases to be enjoyed as light.  ~John Ruskin

gifts {1-7}

I have learned to cease my despising of Mondays.

Yes, for the majority of the world (myself included), Mondays are the bane of our existence.

Back to work. Back to school. Back to the daily grind of all things "weekday"...the departure from the simple restfulness that is the weekend.

Monday's seem to capture all the unspoken troubles of weekends past, and transform them into some doubly horrific and unbearably stressful.

I understand this. I have lived through countless Mondays in my 20 years, and I know I have many more to come. In fact, I struggle with allowing myself to sink into depression at the state of the week, becoming overwhelmed with all I have faced, and that which I have yet to endure in the days ahead.

But I am changing my focus...redirecting my viewpoint from my weary feet and upwards toward the Cross.

So for me, and for this blog, Mondays will now be our time to remember....to enjoy...to take in the gifts that the King has brought upon us.

1,000 of them, to be exact. Perhaps only two or three, perhaps more than a dozen at a time. Each Monday, I will count my blessings...to one thousand and perhaps even beyond.

1. The lovely roll of thunder to which I awoke
2. The sweet familiar smell of my pillow beneath my head
3. Sweet puppy kisses on my toes, and golden eyes looking up at me with love as I write
4. The discovery of IZZE at a local convinience store, almost 60 miles closer than I thought
5. A loving text from someone I hold dear, reminding me once again that I am not alone, that I am not fighting this uphill battle alone
6. The stunning melody of instrumental piano on a friend's blog, which currently fills my ears as I compose this post. 
7. Awakening to read Isaiah 43:2-3, and inhaling the promise of my Savior's enduring love as thought it was the most perfect and delicate of perfumes. 

Mondays are full of all things beautiful, just as are the other days of the week. In fact, Monday is the ribbon on the package that is a new week. 

When the first rays of sun dawn on a Monday, it is the first tug of that parcel binding. When the thunder rolls, it is God tearing open the paper, revealing a new beginning, without a single mistake upon the page. 

This idea was inspired by the beautiful and delightfully outspoken Sarah and her lovely corner of the internet: Emerging Mummy...and what a thought it was. To reach beyond the veil and touch the face of God...to receive His love instead of casting down makeshift curses. 

And that is where I shall begin. Pen in hand, my Beloved King at my side, and new mercies as the dawn. 

I encourage each of you to do the same. There is no button for this challenge...no specific tag of any kind. But the prize? The prize is greater than any giveaway I could ever concoct. 

The prize is joy. Peace. Delight. Blessing. 

The chance to take a long, slow breath...if only for just this one moment. 

Happy Monday, my loves. 

This day is not a curse...

...it is a new beginning...

...the ultimate blessing. 

Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.” ~Lamentations 2:22-24

Embrace

Millions and millions of years would still not give me half enough time to describe that tiny instant of all eternity when you put your arms around me and I put my arms around you.  ~Jacques Prévert

There is something utterly magical about a hug.

Really, the above statement reads so trite to me compared to the depth of emotion that is packed into those words...

...it almost seems a shame to even write those words. 

I feel as though I am doing every hug in the world a mighty disservice. 

There is something remarkable that happens when one person puts their arms around another. 

It is inexplicable...

...and it's one of my favorite things in the world. 

Whether it's a loving touch from your mother after you've had one of the worst days of your life, and all you want is comfort...

... a soft caress from someone you deeply care about, and who you know cares about you more than anything else, and can feel when your heart is about to shatter into a million pieces...

...an affection-laden bear hug from a guy who's been as close as a brother since high school...

...or a still-awaited embrace from your sister who's only been in Germany for a month and still has another 2 months to go before she comes back home. 

Every last one of these touches has power in them.

The power to comfort.

To reassure.

To demonstrate the utmost of tender love and affection...

...sometimes more than words can say. 

If you're angry at a loved one, hug that person.  And mean it.  You may not want to hug - which is all the more reason to do so.  It's hard to stay angry when someone shows they love you, and that's precisely what happens when we hug each other.  ~Walter Anderson

Inspire

Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes.  Art is knowing which ones to keep.  ~Scott Adams


One thing that I get asked more than anything is how I get so much inspiration...how it seems like I have an endless pot of artistry, and it flows from me in a copious amount.


I will be honest...I really have no such thing.


I run out of inspiration on a regular basis. I start posts constantly that never find their way to being published onto the blog. 


I try to write pen-to-paper, or rather, fingers-to-keys...not letting my overly-analytical brain to get in the way of my dreamer's heart.


But, to my own deep regret, I turn my nose up at my own work and allow it to sit without ever seeing the light of day. 


There are so many things that inspire me, though...so many things that move my fingers to dart a new path across the keys. 

• Summer days, complete with lemonade and fresh-picked orchard fruit
• Those people in my life who love me, comfort me, and reassure me...who bless me beyond compare. 
• Rainy afternoons, the chorus of raindrops beating against the windowpane, the percussion of thunder acting as the perfect accompaniment. 
• The melodic streams of Owl City and Imogene Heap flowing out from my rolled-down car window into the humid summertime air. 
• The sweetest scents of vanilla, white jasmine, and lilac...the kiss of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies and cinnamony peach cobbler...the natural scents of damp soil and blossoming tea roses. 
• The words from my favorite book...reminders that there is more to life than facts and numbers...parchment letters from Hogwarts, back-of-wardrobe fancies that may just lead me to my long-chased Narnian home, and the floral gardens of Jane Austen romance.

These things are my bliss...rich and sweet, strong and deep

These are my inspiration...full of light, rich with power.  

These are the gifts of my loving King...the soft whisper of my Savior reminding me that He cares for me closely.

This world is hard and strange and can feel, oh, so empty. 

But there are gifts here. 

There is love here. 

There is glory here. 

There is inspiration here. 

Art is a collaboration between God and the artist, and the less the artist does the better.  ~André Gide

Dreams

"In dreams, we enter a world that's entirely our own." ~Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

I love these rain-glistening nights.

These nights that I spend leaning against the windowpane, gazing out at the raindrops running down the glass, glinting like diamonds in the streetlights.

It's nights like these that allow me to dream...

...to dream of tumbling down the rabbit hole after Alice and her White Rabbit...to find a place where up is down and tea is the balm to any complicated mind.

I wish to dream of carousels, rising and falling atop a painted horse...secret kisses on the boardwalk, his lips alive with hints of sea-salted air.

My mind is alive, eager to find the place whispered to be located just past the second star to the right...

...to find the land where my King is a Lion and centaurs leap through the trees.

The wind carries me over the sea...to sip my tea and pour through the pages of a leather-bound novel, tucked away at a tiny cafe table in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower.

These are my dreams.

These are my wishes.

They are not possible in my waking moments...

...not yet, anyway.

So now, I will sit and gaze out the window at the sparkling raindrops...

...and I will simply dream.

"You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream." ~C.S. Lewis