I’ve trained for this. Part of myself is always watching now, always waiting for the spark. True, sometimes they come without watching—big blazing meteors across the sky. But what about the tiny sparks, you have to coax? The quieter, deeper ones, there and gone like dreams? Often the sparks I breath on gently, fan to flame, and feed, feed, feed, conflagrate into brighter, bluer fires than any flashy meteor.
Sometimes I’m simply walking out to the metal shed at ten p.m. to get a hammer. And then I see something like the moon shining on the metal shed and forget the hammer. Because I know some spark is arriving. Because I know I have only a moment to greet and make it welcome.
7:30 BELLS Posts run every Tuesday.
7:30 BELLS Guest Posts run on the second Tuesday of every month. Join me on November 10 for a guest post with children's book author Jim Whiting