Dear Me

Imi’s prompt

Write about an encounter between the self you are now and the self you want to become.

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Dear Child,

Year 2026 of the month of March.

Spring opens her sleepy eyes. I do the same.

I got up today as I do every morning

Glass of water, crust of bread

A low fire in the wood stove, and out the door to the gardens I’ve always known.

I find peace there—but not as I once did.

Age has caught up with ambition, & I still have not gotten it to tell me where it, or I, am headed. Time has a funny way of keeping secrets from me; no matter how intense my yearning, there’s crowd here is still crickets. At least I find that, in such a biodiverse place, to be admirably honest… and kind in a way.

There’s something else now. What has been felt & wanted for my children and my future is not everything though. I have a nurturing lover, who consoles the nervous system in that there really isn’t much more from me to ask of this realm.

Though I see it… somewhere in this garden, the leaves relinquish visions. The wind sways a certain way. My mast angles accordingly — without a need for command.

It is a deep wish to know of where and what the why is. Could you tell me? I understand if not.

All my blessings nonetheless,

-Miles

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Dear Child,

To you it may concern:

Do not fret. I saw you in the garden just the other day — the last morrow February, if I’m not mistaken

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You’re always there in that place. Every time I wish I could remind you! My words haven’t yet come into being —alas, I am still mute — no matter how many times I check.

What I know is much more than what I speak, thankfully!

Each time the bees converse among the Sage & the Lavender, I hear their whispers beneath the busy hums. It’s about you! They wonder why you seek it so, yet have a need you do not know. We are such silly things, you & I.

In the mulch I eavesdropped upon another point that was buried in the aroma of humus — the sacred nutrient reservoir of the soil — that may indulge you further.

Composters of the older layers caught wind of your indecision through the cracks, but had a very reassured look on their little faces.

“He is not what he once was, and humbly awaits what he is to be, but is currently not. Why does he worry, the new texture of life is always what it must be, inevitably.”

I know you wish for better circumstance & brighter life weather… all in due time, my friend.

Trust in the path as you do like the flagstone in the grove. I’ve no doubt the answers to your needs will come after long day & a well-earned rest.

I hope those aids in your discovery, & I will see you later, as I always do.

Your friend always,

-Miles

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Thanks for listening.

I appreciate all comprehensions of each piece. If you attained a bit of light in the upstairs attic, please, share your thoughts in the comments as it pertains to you.

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Until next time.