While walking at the park one day, I looked down to see a chestnut still inside it's green pokey shell. I picked it up carefully and brought it home. Setting it on the table reminded me of when my kids were little. We'd go for walks and look for "signs of fall" to decorate with. But this day it was just my dog and I.
I set the chestnut next to a cinnamon candle on the dining table. I contemplated whether I should break it open or not. That nice smooth brown chestnut was inside afterall, and much more festive than it's prickly covering. But I left it.
I didn't really even think about it until about a week later when I happened to glance at it. It took me a couple of seconds to realize that this was the same one I'd left there. At first I thought that perhaps my son had brought me a "real" chestnut, one of the brown smooth ones. But then I looked closer. That brown chestnut had busted out of the shell, or else the outer shell had dried up and pushed it out; I'm not sure which.
I touched the shell and then the chestnut. And when I did, the chestnut disconnected from it's shell. And that made me think; that beautiful (yes chestnuts can be beautiful) chestnut was just waiting for the perfect time to emerge. It no longer needed the protective layer. If it had stayed in that protective layer, no one and no thing could have gotten close enough to propel it toward what it was meant to be, where it was meant to be. It's growth would have been stunted. It would have been impossible to move forward. It would have been condemned to simply dream of a better future instead of actually living it. I love that.
nanowrimo word count- 6,665