broken-winged bird

My mother's birthday
[also Robert Bacaj, Kristi, and Amy's mom....]

so my husband and daughter and I
are taking her to lunch this afternoon
at the restaurant that has been our families favorite
for generations


then we'll go visit her new great grandson

this will be the first birthday we've shared since 1998
when we all went home for my brother's wedding




I thought of my mom yesterday at twilight
while at dinner with my in-laws
at an old victorian farm house
out in the middle of nowhere
as we sat under a beautifully lit crystal chandelier
in an elegantly restored dining room
surrounded by a wrap around veranda
full of wicker and geraniums

chandeliers make me think of her
and restored farm houses
and restaurants

she always wanted to have a place like that
I'm sure she still does....

even after all these years
even now when all probability is gone

it's still her dream

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
                          Langston Hughes

{yet again those "birds" trying to teach me something}

the dreams we have
the prayers we make
our hearts desires
for ourselves
and for those we love
whether child or grown

we are all God's very own children
all at various stages of growing up....
reaching for our dreams...

accomplishing His purpose

Delight yourself in the Lord
and He shall give you the desires of your heart
               Psalm 37:4

so I feel like I've always known my mother's dream

but what about my dad's?
a book perhaps?

and mine?!??
am I broken winged-bird?

I've always loved barns...
for as long as I can remember

Sometimes my dream (and my husband's dream!)
comes so very close
to that which my mom always wanted

a place
land
to be self sufficient
and to give back
to garden
a home
to make into a guest house

It's odd though
because as romantic as all that is
farms and barns....
are the background connected to two
of my best and worst childhood memories

both around the time of my parents' divorce

we used to visit this property
with a barn...land
I remember romping in the haybarn
with my brother and sister
and hearing my parents talk about building a house
hearing them dream

then I remember spending a summer at a lovely old farm
with it's musty old smell
and a pond
and woods
and gardens of flowers and herbs
and rooms of books
and time to roam
and make believe

but my mom was with another man
no longer my dad
no longer planning their dream house...

yet
I still love (hold fast) the idea
of land
of gardens

maybe to restore those two broken dreams