I find a leaf halfway down a lavender sprig. I pass over with my pencil many times to replicate the leaf texture. I grab my B pencil to outline the emerging growth. I am breathing full breaths.
I imagine a time series of this leaf; several days collapsed into seconds — it swirls as it tracks the sun, dew drops appear and disappear, and those primordial appendages become . . . I don’t really know. I suspect they are leaves, but looking at the lavender plant I’m not so sure.
I’m reminded of the two nascent sprigs at home. My girls. I have a notion of what they will become, intertwined with my hopes and dreams. Their lives zipping past. Babes only seconds ago. And yet, at the same time I am not so sure.