Dear Lisa Christensen Gee

While I was listening to two women sing "One of Us" by Joan Osborne at the Unitarian service this morning, I closed my eyes and imagined you dancing down the center aisle of the sanctuary. 

You've already given me two of the best compliments of my life. 

The first was when we were still in Chicago, coming close to the end of our time there. You said I "Lived an artful life." I used to have exactly what you said memorized, but the ol' memory isn't quite what it used to be. I consider the 20 months of serious sleep deprivation after I had Magnolia a major contributing factor to my memory issues.

The second was when we were visiting you in Chicago, and you complimented our parenting style by saying that if you ever did have children, you hoped to parent like us. 

And today you sent me that Langston Hughes poem, and I haven't stopped crying, and I read it two-and-a-half hours ago. 

The Dream Keeper

Bring me all of your dreams,
You dreamer,
Bring me all your
Heart melodies
That I may wrap them
In a blue cloud-cloth
Away from the too-rough fingers
Of the world.

The compliment is that you would think to send such a thing to me. Sometimes I feel like the dreams I have are silly - the quantity of them, how impossible they seem. But still I dream. I dream because of how freeing it is to feel capable. I dream because there's so much in life that I want to do, there are so many people I love, there are so many feelings I need to experience in some way. I dream because I always have, and when I'm not dreaming, I feel like I'm suffocating. My dreams are both memories and premonitions, they are loves and losses, hopes and desires. They are the beating of my heart.

Thank you, Sweet Friend, for acknowledging and loving the dreamer that I am.    


And this is so you can make up a dance and perform it for me next time I see you:

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