dogwood, dogwood festival, life, motherhood, reflections, writing

Life measured in Dogwood

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Eight years ago, brand new to Atlanta, our boxes still packed our bodies still worn from twenty hours of driving from our old home to our new, we jumped in the car to briefly explore the city we chose to call our home. One wrong turn led us into the throbbing heart of the city, traffic backed up for miles, and people- so many people- teeming masses of people wandering under vibrant pink and white trees, pushing strollers, lugging coolers. The Dogwood Festival in full-swing on the afternoon of our arrival.

No longer bleary-eyed wayfarers observing from afar, but instead participants with roots slowly entrenching into the clay earth of our adopted city, we do our best to attend each year wandering through the craft stalls, stopping to listen to local musicians, and finding the best shade tree in the heart of the park to sit under to do what we love best: people watch- creating stories for the terse arguing couple in matching yellow shirts power-walking past, or the octogenarian following eight leashed dogs along the outskirts of the park. And last year- walking hand-in-handΒ  under a starlit sky watching vendors unwind from the day, as a movie played on a large screen in the distance and my son jabbed me with his foot from within, wondering what the coming year between Dogwood festivals would bring.

Today we went to the Dogwood Festival. We maneuvered our unwieldy stroller through the crowded craft stalls. Rushed past the local musicians hoping they didn’t wake our sleeping baby- and sat down under a distant shade-tree to nurse and watch him stare at the nine-foot ferris wheel in the distance, trying with his wobbly legs, to make his way towards the merry-go-round and face-painting just beyond the hill; a hint at the new things the next Dogwood Festival will bring.

Today was my eighth Dogwood Festival. In the span of these eight years I lived lives as a city-dweller, a regrettable suburbanite, a teacher, a lawyer, and now a stay-at-home mother pursuing my creativity, a second manuscript in the hands of my agent, and a hope and a prayer that the space between this festival and the next will yield good things. The Dogwood Festival holds a special place in my heart for it is a tangible marker of the time I have spent in this city- the beautiful changes that have come with- and all, I hope, that is yet to come.

13 thoughts on “Life measured in Dogwood”

  1. Will we ever be able to read the manuscipt of first book (story of 'that' little girl)..?

    Can you post at password protected blog or email etc. – If not, I understand as one of our medical book was rejected by publishers' as contents were already out on net.

    Salam to K and piyar to Waleed or vice versa!


  2. Mystic, I hope the other novel sees light one day πŸ™‚ As for posting it on-line, like you said, if its online its considered “published” and not eligible then for getting actually published. I appreciate that you are interested in it, hopefully I'll be lucky enough to have a hard copy to send you one day insh'Allah πŸ™‚


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