Fairies in the wind
Carrying childhood wishes
‘Rosebay willowherb’… tall summer spires of brilliant pink followed by a thousand fluffy fairies escaping autumn’s flame. Magical things, holding the future within them, like the child who watched them fly. Great oaks contained within a single acorn, fields of gold in a dandelion clock. Exploding balsam or a carpet of pink-tipped grass in a woodland glade where dreams are born. Dreams that float on the winds of possibility, finding fertile ground or laying fallow. Catch them as they pass lest they escape forever. Seeds are the echo of childhood.
The glade is smaller than she remembers. Screened from view by the gnarled oak and a bank of fireweed, it had been her sanctuary, a place to which she could run and hide. A place to dream of a future she herself could shape.
A child ‘should be seen but not heard’… but now she is a woman.
The roots of the oak have grown around the marker stone. The manicured nails tear as she digs. It is still here, where she had left it all those years ago… waiting for this day. She will be silent no longer…