Are we aware of the moments when little seeds are being planted in us by someone or something? Can we ever look back and pinpoint the exact moment when something pivotal was finding its way in, maybe laying dormant for a while, but eventually bursting into bloom?
I think these seeds fall more often than we realize. We walk around scattering them all over the place willy-nilly.
But every so often, if the conditions are just right, a seed will take hold and thrive.
Tonight I was having a conversation online with a very old friend, someone who features heavily in all my best childhood memories. We haven't spoken in years.
"I've been reading your blog," he said, out of the blue, "It's been making me want to write my own."
I was flabbergasted. And delighted.
I was blown away that this little thing I do, way over here, in the seclusion of my small apartment, has influenced his life in however small a way.
Are we all doing this to each other, all the time, for good or for ill?
When I was thirteen, I had problems with my friends. They were determined to throw themselves into a world of experience that I couldn't keep up with. My immature brain could not figure out why I had suddenly been cast out. I took it personally. I thought I must be lacking. For a couple of years I didn't feel like I could trust anyone, as one by one my friends let me down.
Then came Erin. She wore her heart on her sleeve. She was loyal and trustworthy and hilarious. She planted seeds all over the place. I remember being very wary of her open offer of friendship, but then she surprised me by meaning it.
Have I ever told her how much that meant to me at that particular moment in time? Does she know how her honest heart won out over the cynicism that had been growing in mine?
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