Dream on, Little Dreamer
How many of us live with priceless moments that no one is there to witness but us? Ordinary moments. Golden. I could not let this one pass. It’s Izzy and me this morning at the coffee shop. As I was working on a chapter of her book, she was being courted by the Sand Man.
As her eyelids drooped heavier, all I could hear in my head was Mary Poppins.
And just like that, I was seven years old, slipping under the covers to dream of sidewalk chalk drawings and carousel horses that ride through the park.
Thank you, Izzy, for remembering my dreams.