[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCI1G3XTWMA&hl=en&w=425&h=344]
"If you don't have a dream, how are you going to make your dream come true?" - Oscar Hammerstein

This is for Marc.

“Today is my last writing group!” he exclaimed when he walked in the door.  He has a big wide smile, a smile so broad it extends to the edges of his face.  The kind of smile that makes you want to smile back, even on a non-smile kind of day.  Today it was just a bit wider.  “I’m moving out tomorrow!”

Wow. 

That’s the goal, after all.  They work and save and budget their money.  They go to school.  They deal with the past.  They work their programs.  They get sober.  And then, hopefully, with a little bit of luck, they move out.

We had a new guy venture in last night.  Every now and then, someone hears something that makes them want to come in and check it out, come see what we’re doing behind the closed door of classroom number 2.  Tonight was Joe’s night.  He came in and sheepishly sat down.  “I’m not much of a writer,” he said.

The regulars just smiled.  We’ve heard that line before.

Marc fingered his notebook, flipping it open to the first page.  The smile got wider.  “I’ve been coming since January 23rd.  Six months.

Six months of writing.  The little green notebook that bears his name is filled with pages of words printed in black ink, pages of crisp white paper filled with snapshots of his life. 

Six months of reading.  His thick, New York accent jumps off the pages as I scan the stories.  The words have a sound unto themselves. 

Six months of sharing stories.  No longer is he the tall, lanky stranger that walked into the room all those months ago.   Now he is our friend.

Part of our writing process includes envisioning.  We write about where we have been, of course, but we also write about where we wish to go.  We dream together and we paint pictures of those dreams.  Not surprisingly, for the men and women who live here, those dreams usually include a place to call home.

"It’s early in the morning.  The sun is just about to rise over the lush green rolling hills that surround this place that I call home.  I’m standing on the wrap around porch that circles my single level country cottage style home, a cup of coffee in my hand.  I begin my daily stroll around this ½ acre of land, my sanctuary.  At the bottom of the stairs, the spring flower bulbs have risen and burst into a vast colorful blanket, a quilt of daffodils, tulips, crocus and poppy blossoms…. I walk toward the garden, round the back of the house.  A hummingbird and his friend whiz past my head at lightening speed, catching me off guard.  I laugh.  My smile is ear to ear.  My heart beats slowly.  My breathing is effortless.  I can’t think of any other place I’d rather be.”

I’m so glad he’s on his way.