Late Bloomer
“I was a late bloomer. But anyone who blooms at all, ever, is very lucky.” –Sharon Olds
“I spent much of my childhood listening to the sound of striving.” Michelle Obama
Michelle Obama grew up to the sound of students labouring at her great-aunt Robbie’s piano, producing “bad music, or at least amateur music.”
That’s the opening to her memoir, Becoming, as pointed out by Linda Caroll.
And that stopped me. Ms. Obama could have talked about living in the White House as the First Lady of the USA, or some big political moment. Instead, she started at the beginning. With striving.
THANK YOU.
Sometimes I feel so stupid.
Everyone else seems brilliant, kind, wise, and patient.
Many of my friends are doctors who save lives, pioneer new research, patiently educate and advocate, often while raising 3.2 incredible children and writing/painting/dancing their way to success. They have supportive partners or, even more impressively, are doing it on their own.
And they make it all look effortless.
Me? I look super serious. Maybe I’m scowling. When I was in grade six, I won the “Concentration Award” during ski lessons. My friends found it hilarious.
Let’s make it normal to strive.
To try.
To cry when we fall down.
To help dust each other off.
To bloom late.
To bloom repeatedly.
To bloom at all.
I’m thinking of my darling Roxy too. My heart goes out to anyone here who misses someone deep in your heart.
Love,
Melissa
My friend Jamieson is having their art show tomorrow:
I admire T. Thorn as a human being and as a creator. They have a new book, The Rhymer Of Ash Grove, live for 7 more days.
I’m thinking of camping with my son in British Columbia’s Wells Gray Provincial Park. I am not a camper. Am I crazy? Probably yes. I’m researching Sense & Sword Agility, which is Sense and Sensibility with swords and dragons and badass sisters.
I figured out the ghost in the ghost town of BC. I promise to tell you more in the next newsletter. Please sign up to follow along. Thanks & love to you!
