Some years ago, I decided to plant a garden. One of the men helping me said: you can't hurry plants. You are not building concrete boxes. You must let it grow at its own pace.Many summers and winters later, despite all the nurturing and care, a part of the garden remains patchy. It is as if that part of the lawn would like to teach me patience. A quiet acceptance of how things could go despite our best efforts.
Memories are tricky too. They relinquish us; not vice versa. In response to my previous post, I was advocated forgiveness. I agree. But I also do think forgiving is easier than forgetting. But these are all words.
Can someone tell me a true life experience? I know the world treads carefully around writers. We are scavengers of sorts always seeking material. But what I seek here is to create a forum. To see if there are tips rather than answers. What works. What doesn't. It could be a book, a song, a day with a child, the sight of a kitten playing... tell me.... I am curious....our stories are not ours alone!
