Once upon a time, I lived in an enchanted city where dreams sprang up like wildflowers. I had been called there by the siren song of promise, of a way to live that was extraordinary. But my heart was dashed open on the rocks of that island city and the siren song that once seemed so sweet turned sour in my ears. And among the shards of my cracked glass heart was a still-beating kernel of hope. So I scooped it up and flew away, before the island could sink me like a wreck off the shore of Not Quite Perfect. I planted my seed in a familiar place, in a small pot of my native soil, nourishing it and encouraging it to take root. And I perched in prayer, listening in silence for the song of new cities to call to me. Because one day soon, the kernel of hope would sprout and blossom, seeking room to spread its branches. And I will spread my wings, answering the song of a place that speaks truer to my heart.
I’m beginning a year of transition: from my old city life to something completely unknown. In twelve month’s time I’ll be living in a new city, or town, or state, or country…I haven’t really decided yet. That’s what this year is all about: choosing my next step. One thing’s for sure though, I may be leaving the lights of NYC behind but I’ll always be,
PS. If you want to see how the story began, check out these posts from way back in the day: