Sometimes, memory behaves like a distracted hand. I look back now and realize I was walking without a map, entirely unaware that with every step, I was dropping my seeds directly into your open hands. We don’t notice when we are giving ourselves away, do we? We simply move forward, leaving trails of who we are in the palms of those who care to watch.

And then came time—that quiet, implacable master of all promises. It didn’t ask for permission; it simply altered the winds and changed the sails of my life, steering me into waters I never anticipated.

But the mystery of waiting is that nothing is truly lost. When those seeds finally came back to me, they returned transformed. I reaped an abundance of colors, flowers, and dreams, so dizzy by the beauty of the harvest that I failed to notice the most profound truth: they were also the exact reason new dawns were flourishing within me.

They smiled. It was a brief, subtle gesture—fleeting, yet heavy with meaning. And that was enough. In that precise, quiet instant, everything blossomed in me…

With all my love,

© Beatriz Esmer