Behind You

I’m reading Salman Rushdie’s memoir these days, and he talks about loss of concentration. Since he was on the move almost constantly when the fatwa was issued, he found it difficult to focus on his writing and create something. He had an audience; organizations world-wide awarding him with prizes and his son asking for a book of stories for children, but he found it difficult to find the drive to write with his precarious living situation.
I have very little demand or belief in my work. I’m like a plant that continues to grow despite lack of light or water. But when someone lends of a moment of nurturing, my writing takes off like a weed, overloaded, believing too. For a bit I’m reaching and deep green, maybe even blooming as the effect starts to wear down. Distress signal in a fan of color. And then I’m back to slow growth.
I need to take the food in small doses and live longer…which is why when I was nurtured this past week, just before Christmas, I copied and pasted the nurturance in my phone’s notebook to read. “See here,” it says, “remember your worth.”
I’m not blooming yet…and want to make this last as deep as a well.

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