Here I am, in all my knowing ignorance and acknowledged naivete. I stand before you eager and wide eyed and so very curious of what I don’t yet know. I peek through the slats in the door, willing into existence a bright green meadow that will sprawl and sprawl with abundance. I know the folly in that, and I will it anyway.
I came to you humble and you’ve bestowed me with more than I knew I needed. I had contented myself to ride into battle with little more than the clothes on my back. I’ve been delighted and daunted and delighted again. And when presented with all the moments I could be absolutely swallowed by, I defer to my knowing ignorance and my acknowledged naivete.
I don’t mind being as green as those pastures I dream of. I don’t mind burgeoning out in the open. I don’t mind being young and new and blooming. I’ll accept with gratitude all of the ire or mercy or grace that that affords. One day, I’ll have roots. My petals will reach for something meaningful. And I will remember when this life of mine began. I suspect that I won’t look back on this foolhardy seedling and cast her aside. I’ll be glad that, against the forces that be, she held on as long as she could to those tender beginnings.
Take courage, ingenue, it’s your ripened heart they’re after.