A Dream Deferred No More

by

Anne Michael

The smell of onion grass
newly mown
lays heavily on moist air that sits too still
waiting for the dawn
with no more sound
than the growl of the grounds keeper’s mower
no more light than its headlights raggedly
peering through the predawn fog
like some mythical dragon
coming out of the mist.

It is spring in Florida, the winds have picked up and the air, as it blows over the skin, is a bit warmer. It will stay windy for weeks until finally folks start griping about the heat and how long the summer will be. I’ve packed away my sweaters (all six of them) and the lethargy of winter’s early nightfalls are sloughing off as sunset gets later and the outdoors and all its pleasures beckon. Birds sing with great gusto and gorgeous song as they go searching for mates in trees that are now fully leafed and newly and brightly green. Spring always feels like a gift to me. It is the season of hope, of second chances and of promises kept. The year has hit its stride and taken on a personality it didn’t have at its birth. 

I was given a wonderful reminder of the benediction of this season last week for more than just the smell of onion grass and spring air. A package at my front door awaited me.  It was from my friend Susan in North Carolina. Since it wasn’t my birthday or a holiday, I opened the package with quizzical anticipation. Inside were a note and a book about Alaska. It seemed that Susan remembered from a column I wrote in December about regret, specifically about my mother-in-law, Phyllis’ regret that she would never see Alaska. Something in my words about Phyllis’ increasingly failing health touched Susan who found Alaska: A Photographic Excursion and mailed it along with a simple note that directed me to give the book to Phyllis. I did just that.

Even though I did not purchase the book nor read it, it gave me the greatest pleasure to present it to the wanna-be traveler. I told her about Susan, her good nature, and her empathy and understanding for wanting to visit places of which one dreams.

In the stead of my wonderful friend, I got to hear the swift intake of breath as Phyllis opened the book at random to see one of the stunning photographs and to watch the gnarled and thin-boned hands caressing the cover and pages and to see the looks of wonder and awe as she realized a stranger was, at that moment, giving her a piece of a dream. I watched as it came true page by page. For about 15 minutes, my mother-in-law peered at the photography, touching the pictures as though she could grab the scenery in her hands. She commented that she could almost smell the scent of the pines that were used as a backdrop in one photo for a row of totem poles. “Summer in Alaska,” she said, “looks a lot like springtime in Florida with everything in bloom.”

Since the book’s arrival, Steve and I are being regaled at supper each night with facts about Alaska that she has gleaned from the pages.  With a look of pleasure and satisfaction on her face, I was asked to thank Susan for beautiful book and the dream she made come true. I did so with exquisite pleasure, and I do so again with this column.

Spring is a gift. Spring is hope. It is promises kept as warmth returns to the land and plants bloom.  Spring is a dream delivered via postman and the goodness of another’s heart.  Spring is regret mitigated by a gift. Here’s wishing you the blessings of this new season of hope, dear readers.


At age 10, Anne realized she was never going to get to be Miss America since reading a book was not an acceptable talent. So she went on to get a job and raise a family. Along the way, she fixed meals, picked up toys, helped with homework, and collected a drawer full of rejection slips for her “great American novel.” It was not all bad, however, since she ended up wallpapering a closet with them. She currently designs and creates greeting cards for her tiny company, The Frog Prints, LLC, and also works full-time as a Training Specialist. Anne is currently tethered to reality by a loving spouse, two dogs and the occasional hurricane that blows through Florida, although falling headlong and happily into a book is still her favorite “talent.” She can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it