Perhaps it is the glossy pictures in magazines or the romantic gondola rides featured in films that romanticise Venice. Yet, as I meandered across the canals of the city of water, I struggled to find the romance or beauty in the maze of streets.
So, on my second night in Venice while the setting sun drew in to the clouds overhead, I entered St. Mark’s square. I nurtured the hope of drawing away from the bustling tourist-packed passageways that ran like veins through the city.
I’m writing this letter to thank you for never leaving me, even after all this time, after I went ahead and grew up. Even now – you stay. And I love you, because I need you, and to be able to pretend, and you know me like no one else could.
I feel you close by, just a whisper’s distance, even when life gets overwhelming and my Second Star seems quite far away. You are in my periphery always, and I want you to know that I catch a precious glimpse of you each time you come to visit like the treasured company you are.
He carried a floral gift bag bigger than any purse I owned into my kitchen. My birthday present. I wore a dress the colors of the ocean, my hair curled, my makeup done for our night at the philharmonic. I couldn’t wait for the night to start, but lingering excitement came over me as I suspected what might just be in that floral bag.
The tissue paper susurrated as I swept it aside and withdrew a wrapping paper-covered box. It was a carrying case, and inside was my 1948 Remington Rand typewriter. The tiny metal arms stamped with letters and numbers fanned around the green-gray shell and the black ribbon that transfers the ink to the creamy linen pages. The silver lever that moved the type to the next line gleamed. A tiny part of me suspected, but I didn’t let myself believe, that this glittering slice of magic was in that bag. It was the most romantic gift I’ve ever received.
There are moments where I wish life was wrapped up and under my control, but I also want openness and ease. I crave certainty, but I’m most alive when life unfolds in messy and beautiful ways.
Like many people, I hope for a quick fix — a magic pill that lets me leap over difficult circumstances. This is the craving of my small mind. When I listen to the big mind of my heart, I find wisdom: I only grow if I do the hard, honest work, knowing I’ll begin again and again.
“I believe in magic. Subtle, everyday magic. Each morning before I give myself a chance to to doubt otherwise, I smile knowing that this day is laced with wonders, and it’s my plan to focus on finding them.”
– “Mining Magic” by Suzanne Robbins, Bella Grace Issue 7
When I started working on the Grace Notes Blog Hop in March, I was a beginner to the process. It was my first time coordinating anything like this and truth be told, I was a little nervous. I wanted this blog hop to be just as inspirational as the Bella Grace Blog Hop hosted on Somerset Place. I also wanted to have it be reflective of the kinds of heartfelt narratives found in the pages of Bella Grace, and to showcase the fantastic stories that readers could discover within Grace Notes. In retrospect, I didn’t need to be nervous. There was an indescribable kind of magic in the air that I trusted to guide me. By believing in that magic, I knew this blog hop was going to turn into something very special.