On Dragonflies and Being Bold

I’m into dragonflies–no, I don’t collect dragonfly paraphernalia or have dragonflies all over my house, I just like dragonflies. It’s because of my mother. She gave me my first dragonfly (a pendant on a silver chain) when my son was born 42 years ago with the caveat that I couldn’t put it on until I was prepared to live a bold life. What the hell did she mean by “live a bold life”? With the arrogance of youth, I dismissed her words and tucked the pendant away, but every so often over the years, I thought about it.

It wasn’t until long after she died that I gradually began to see what Mom meant about being bold. As I crept into my fifties and then fell headlong into my sixties, I was (and often still am) a restless mess of a woman, needing something and having no idea what, wanting change and yet not knowing why or how. Feeling like I was missing out, but not knowing how to move forward. I buried myself in work, I cried a lot…and I realized something significant. Mom was right, I wasn’t bold.

It wasn’t that she expected me to take a trip down the Amazon or jump out of a plane—she simply wanted me to be bold enough to figure who Nan was, to dig deep inside and find Nan’s dreams. I loved being a wife and mother and thoroughly enjoyed my job as a freelance editor, but for years, I wanted to write again like I did when I was a kid. From the time I could hold a pencil, I filled notebook after notebook with fantasies and stories. When did I stop engaging my very active imagination? When did I stop believing I could be a writer? Mom had never given up on that dream—I had. 

One Thursday morning in 2008, after a long, cleansing cry, I dug in my jewelry case for the velvet box that held Mom’s dragonfly. With a deep breath (and an eye roll for Mom, who I’m sure was looking down and saying “about damn time, kid!”), I clasped it around my neck. I sat down that day and started writing. In the years since that fateful day, I’ve written twelve books, with nine published and three more due to be released in 2022 and another three in 2023. I am hard at work on novel #13. I’m a weekly blogger, I’m connected to so many wonderful writers and I’ve attended workshops and conferences. My writing bestie, Liz, and I go on writing retreats a couple of times a year for fellowship and to restore our souls and creativity.

I’m braver. Maybe still not living the large life that Mom imagined, but it’s bigger now than it was and maybe that’s all that matters. I’ve been to Paris and Ireland. I’ve grown my editing business so much that I am in demand as an editor and that’s a lovely feeling. I’ve spoken at libraries and other venues about writing and editing, and I’ve done book signings where people are excited to meet me (a real author!) and buy my books.

Mother never got to see me wear her gift, but whenever I see a dragonfly, I always smile and wave. I know it’s her, flying by to say, “Hey, there’s my bold girl! You finally got it!” Well, maybe not completely, Mom, but I’m closer every day…”