on my way there

last year,

there were only spaces.

a row here,
a row there.

now,

I can see it beginning.

the sunflowers,
the wildflowers,
the solar lanterns,
the softly lit butterfly chimes.

I laughed inside,
silent, yet free.

and then a remembering.

once upon a time,
I wrote about wanting to become
the small-town eccentric old lady.

a tap on the shoulder.

a raised brow.

my dear…

I think you are on your way there.