Choosing Dandelions


Photo: Hasan Almasi on Unsplash


I wake and turn my back on the clock and seek the comfort of the dream that is still floating like a bubble, already fragile, above my head. It pops and disappears and there is nothing but a vague sense of something lost. I wanted to go back into it … and yet the choice, when it was made in some subterranean neurological net within my mind, was that sleep was to escape.

The day to unfold.

Still, and throughout the mundane tasks of morning, small search-parties like tentative roots into hard-packed sand, send shoots into my consciousness to try and capture whiffs of the dream. A hope that perhaps a fleeting dandelion seed of recollection will find purchase and regrow a stalk.

A place of in-between. Perhaps a corner of my mind is still in slumber. Perhaps if I find it, I will come across the dream, robust in puffy bubble-hood, still tethered to my insides, waiting to be seen.

Sometimes writing helps.

I have too much to do.

I will ignore.

Will choose to sit and breathe and let my mind and fingers wander where they may, the sands of time, the depths of grief, the dawns of days, the fluttering delights, the warmth of recognition, the sorrows of injustice. Currents of discovery of what’s already there. A sea of tethered bubbles like a field of hot-air balloons, straining at the anchors to let loose.

I wrote of a blimp just the day before.

Was that the origin or the reaction to the imagery of bobbing thoughts and fullness so tangible it turns air into rising power? Was the blimp the source or the reflection of the fragility of any skin if pulled too tight, of the leaking deflation if seams are untended, the world upended as it spirals out of flight?

I write. I breathe.

I look pointedly away from the pink sticky notes and the open documents holding forms awaiting filling for a speaking engagement and another for an upcoming presentation and a list of emails needing a response.

I make a choice.

To chase a dandelion.




For Linda Hill’s SoCS Challenge: Choices



23 thoughts on “Choosing Dandelions

  1. Beautiful. Floaty. Full of possibility.


    Adele Ryan McDowell, Ph.D.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I love the Dandelions. As children we would pick them, blow on them and with each blow we would say ‘one o’clock, two o’clock and so on.
    I am a shallow breather, have often been told ‘breath girl, for goodness sake breath’. ….that has happened several times while in hospital..the oxygen levels become low and the monitor goes beep beep.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. And Happy Groundhog Day to everyone!! Each year, it begins my search for new tiny green shoots. Like Sherlock Holmes, I bend and peer – On Friday I saw a couple of teenies in Riverside Park and today, some others in Downtown Brooklyn – I dance the Spring is Coming Jig, enjoin my Granddaughter to join me: together, we sang the birds to begin to pack their bags and fly back to us and, this year, Granddaughter called the SnowGods to send NYC some Snow first, so she can try her new bright green slide! We wait to ascertain which of us sees the first snowdrop!!! Place your bets!!! TS


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