The colors outside were variations of grays and blues with a memory of green on the grass. Naked bushes and trees allowed us to see the squirrels scamp as we looked for deer. I was hanging with a 16 year old who is on the brink of exploring her life as she begins to envision a world out of her parent’s home. She said “When it looks like this I feel as though anything is possible. It all looks so clear.”
I was surprised that she saw possibility when most of us see emptiness. Possibilities come with buds on the trees, with the sweet hint of green washing branches and earth, waiting for color to burst forward. Against her backdrop of gray I realize how literal my expectant buds are.
For her -- is it because she is young? -- possibilities exist against a canvas of what is. She doesn’t need the suggestion of growth or hint of color. It was the clear, uncluttered view that supported her ability to dream in that moment.
I am thankful for small conversations that continue to teach me lovely lessons.
I was surprised that she saw possibility when most of us see emptiness. Possibilities come with buds on the trees, with the sweet hint of green washing branches and earth, waiting for color to burst forward. Against her backdrop of gray I realize how literal my expectant buds are.
For her -- is it because she is young? -- possibilities exist against a canvas of what is. She doesn’t need the suggestion of growth or hint of color. It was the clear, uncluttered view that supported her ability to dream in that moment.
I am thankful for small conversations that continue to teach me lovely lessons.
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