The Wellspring - Casting Thread

[Viviane]

Hi, everyone! If you’re helping with The Wellspring, please post here so we can keep track of who’s done what. Saberlane will kick us off at 9:00 a.m. Eastern Standard (aka Herman Time), and each of us can add our bit after that.

A quick summary of the steps to the spell for everyone who isn’t Sabes, just so we all have it handy:

1. Share your Figuration - In this case, it should be a story of kindness, generosity, or compassion.

2. Share your Focus - This is whatever object you’re hoping to use to seed the magic from the aliquary. If you can share a photo, great! If not, a description of the item should be fine. We just want a record of what was used in case any of it turns magimystic as a result.

3. Complete the Chant - In theory, this will tie your object focus to your story. Goes as follows:
   Seed to be planted
   Filled with potential
   Waiting for spring to come
   With love and with light
   Refract through our hearts
   Gleam bold strong and true
   Go out into the world
   To shine forth anew

[Saberlane]

I’m here and ready to go in a little less than 20 minutes.

[Saberlane]

The Aliquary looks ready. It usually pulses alongside the heartbeat of the person holding it, but it’s glowing nonstop now, like it’s every one of our heartbeats, together.

15 minutes to go.

[Fox]

Ready to go. Stay safe, @Saberlane!

[Saberlane]

There isn’t much more to say that I didn’t say last night.
This had been quite a ride, and now it’s time to trust in magiq.

Good luck and good journeys, Mountaineers.
I love you all.

Prism of old power
Open yourself to this new age
May your memories and magiq
Be shared and multiply

Seed to be planted
Filled with potential
Waiting for spring to come
With love and with light
Refract through our hearts
Gleam bold strong and true
Go out into the world
To shine forth anew

[Augustus_Octavian]

My story of kindness is a true one.

In my undergrad institution, class rings were a BIG deal. Every year, a committee of students was charged with designing the details of the ring, including symbols of our time there. College was transformative for many of us, and we had lived through some major global events while we studied in those classrooms. I’m showing my age, but I can remember, clear as day, being sent back to our dorms from Cellular Histology to call our families when the Twin Towers fell. The numbers 9 and 11 were worked into the symbolism on our rings.

There were formal dances, cookouts, and all sorts of celebrations on Ring Weekend. I remember how nervous I was to ask the girl I liked at the time to the dance, and how elated I was when she said “yes.”. My school was Catholic, and there was even a special mass said to bless the rings. They were meant to be a lifelong reminder of our four years at our school.

And I lost mine.

I remember the day. It was the summer after we graduated, and I had gone to a Thai restaurant with some friends who were suddenly former classmates. I must have taken my ring off to wash my hands, and either set it on the sink or stowed it away in my pocket wear it then must have fallen out. Regardless, I realized it was gone. I was heartbroken.

Years passed, and I was in my very last year of a postgraduate training program. It was busy and intensive, but when my dad called me randomly in the middle of the day, I stopped and answered. I figured someone must have died, or he was about to deliver some other bad news.

It wasn’t the case though. It was the ring. Someone had brought it to a pawn shop. The inside of each ring was engraved with our names, and the owner of the pawn shop had called the alumni office, and was given my last known contact information: My parents’ house. This was no good deed, though. he was not calling to return it to us out of Goodwill, but wanted to sell it to us. He figured the sentimental value would be worth more dollars than melting it down for gold.

My dad asked me what I wanted to do. Years had passed, and the intense meaning that the ring first carried had faded in the face of so, so many more life events, both joyous and traumatic. I was also too proud to be blackmailed by a pawnshop owner, so I told my dad to tell him to melt it. I had made peace with the decision, but the pain of having lost it the first time was fresh again. I was surprised at how sad I felt, and worried whether I had made the right choice.

I turns out I hadn’t needed to. My younger brother bought the ring, and would gift it to me some weeks later. This is one of the greatest kindnesses I’ve ever been given: he had shown that he had not given up on a part of my history, a part of myself, that even I had forsaken.

Seed to be planted
Filled with potential
Waiting for spring to come
With love and with light
Refract through our hearts
Gleam bold strong and true
Go out into the world
To shine forth anew

[Fox]

Sometimes, you feel lost. Like the light has gone out, and you’re just scrambling to find the path again. And sometimes, you don’t even know. Forest for the trees and all that.

I was untethered to the world. Sure, I had family and friends and a dog and hobbies and work and school. I thought that was enough. I didn’t even see how far I had floated away, kind of like a balloon that a small child fails to hold onto and then it’s gone into the sky forever.

When I walked into class on a day that would change my life, I didn’t feel anything different. But in the middle of the room was a massive drum. I could have lain across it with my arms out and not touched the edges. It was covered in buffalo leather and ribbons and feathers and paint, and it was beautiful, but I remained indifferent.

My professor opened the lesson with a discussion of different drum beats and what they meant, and then she played for us. She sang a song to greet the sun, and while the drum beats seemed to match the beat of my heart, I felt almost nothing.

And then I was called to play. The second my hand touched the drum, I could feel it reverberating in my bones, shaking me awake from what felt like eons of sleepwalking. She sang a song to bring the rain, and I began to cry as I drummed. When the song was done, she covered me with a buffalo hide and let me sit on the floor and sob. The realization that I hadn’t felt anything for years had hit me with such brutal force that I couldn’t do anything else.

After that, she invited me to join her tiospaye and be a part of ceremony on the reservation. It wasn’t until over a year later that I learned she had to fight to get permission for me, possibly the whitest person alive, to set foot on ceremonial ground. Stepping on those grounds felt like my feet turned into roots and planted themselves joyfully and deeply. The sun felt warmer on my face, the breeze cooler yet more friendly.

She helped bring me back to life because she recognized how far I was gone. Because she cared enough to reach out to a person who could have been just another student.

And I am pouring all this life and unquestionable love and acceptance into this simple piece of jewelry that @Sellalellen gave me. Neither of us realized its importance at the time, but now we are all giving it a chance at something beautiful – and magiqal.

Seed to be planted
Filled with potential
Waiting for spring to come
With love and with light
Refract through our hearts
Gleam bold strong and true
Go out into the world
To shine forth anew

[Ashburn]

Eric was a lovely human.
He’d always greet folks by name when he passed them in the hallway (even if he had to low-key ask someone else to make sure he got it right before he was within earshot).
He offered me a ride home when an event was cancelled due to an impending hurricane, even though it would definitely be out of his way.
Then one day he was gone. His light put out too soon.
It may not have his name on it, but this heart is for him.
Hopefully it will help keep someone else’s light shining at least a little bit longer.

Seed to be planted
Filled with potential
Waiting for spring to come
With love and with light
Refract through our hearts
Gleam bold strong and true
Go out into the world
To shine forth anew

[Cirydae]

It’s been five years since I bought this journal.I’m a bad journal keeper, so it’s only half full, but I am good at keeping souveniers. Over the past five years I’ve saved every important ticket, every photobooth strip, maps of events I’ve gone to or invitations. This journal isn’t magiq, not on its own, but it’s filled with a record of all those times I’ve been among friends. It’s a tangible collection of the kindness of people I know, who go see movies with me or take silly pictures with me. I’ve got the invitation from the first wedding I went to where it was my friends getting married. It’s gotten so that I need a heavy-duty band around it to keep it somewhat closed and together, I’ve put so many things in there.
The note on the front is from my mom, who hid presents in my suitcase when I was packing to leave last year for me to find when I arrived.
Leafing through the entries, it’s easy to find the good points. It’s mostly when I wrote, after all. I’ve been through a lot–and a lot of countries–in the past five years, and this journal holds most of those memories. I wouldn’t have had those experiences if not for the kindness of strangers–the people who took me into their homes when I was traveling, or who saw me going absolutely wild during sports practice and still decided I was someone they wanted to be friends with.
I’m not sure of the place magiq has in this world, or the place I do, but I’m more than
ready to fill up the pages as I figure it out.

Seed to be planted
Filled with potential
Waiting for spring to come
With love and with light
Refract through our hearts
Gleam bold strong and true
Go out into the world
To shine forth anew

[Robert]

I had a professor in college who I adored and we spent a lot of time together after class. Whenever someone approached her with a problem, she would stop whatever she was doing, put down whatever she had and take out a pair of glasses and put them on and listen to the person. Really listen with all her focus. Sometimes just listening was enough but if not at least she understood as much as she could before trying to chip in.

One day her glasses fell from her pocket, and bounced near me. I picked them up, and on a lark, decided to put them on. I took them on and off as she just smile at my confused brain spun. They had no special glass, no pescription, nothing. As I handed them back I asked her why she wore uselsess glasses.

She laughed and told me putting them on was her ‘ritual’ for setting aside the world and trying to really see the person in front of her. And if the person she was talking to felt truly heard and better understood even a little, then the glasses were far from useless.

She let me keep that pair…apparently she had a dozen throughout her pockets and office drawers. I tried a few times to use them to help me focus and listen, but I could never pull it off as seemless and it always raised more questions than it helped.

But the lesson she taught me, to listen with all your focus and to make the other person feel like for that time they were the center of your attention. That’s a lesson I wish to carry into this new Book, and I willingly offer these glasses if they can help anyone else. Empathy is in short supply some days. I hope to plant a seed here to help grow more.

Seed to be planted
Filled with potential
Waiting for spring to come
With love and with light
Refract through our hearts
Gleam bold strong and true
Go out into the world
To shine forth anew

[BairnSidhe]

I had a plan for my Figuration. It was beautiful and thematic and everything I wanted for the New Book.

I woke up knowing it was wrong.

This is my Dad, and a few of the stories I’ve hung onto in unusable formats simply because he loved them.

My Dad taught me figuration, not that he called it that. He gave me my love of learning and reading and writing and magic. He taught me the power of a story. He saved my life countless times with unwavering kindness and support when I was in a dark place. He would have loved AG and all you guys stand for.

He died on February 17th 2015.

As one last gift, his life insurance ended up paying for the medical treatment that we knew was possibly going to cure my lifelong, life threatening, illness.

My item I offer is the pot I made after his death. I was feeling broken, so I wanted to make something that reflected that. I broke a flowerpot, and then I decorated the pieces with lines from his favorite poem. I glued it back together, and not all of the parts line up, some is even decorated upside down, but it reflects the way we grow after great loss. Not the same as we were, never the same, but more interesting, more beautiful, stronger in some ways and weaker in others.

We can’t forget the parts of us that have been broken, just because we are moving into a new book. We have to bring the resilience of loss and survival with us, or it’s going to fall apart again, but we can remake that pain into something that is beautiful and loving. I offer a place for the seed of our new world to grow through the loss of the old world. I offer rebirth and refiguration.

Seed to be planted
Filled with potential
Waiting for spring to come
With love and with light
Refract through our hearts
Gleam bold strong and true
Go out into the world
To shine forth anew

[Connielass]

Wandering the streets of any major city, you see homeless people. Resting in any place that will give shelter from the wind, and if they’re lucky, from the rain and snow. I’m always conscious of how much luckier I am to have a warm house to come home to. I don’t have enough money to solve their problems, but I hope I can lessen them with some small, useful gift: scarves, hats, and cowls I make with yarn that was gifted to me, discards bought from a second-hand store.

Seed to be planted
Filled with potential
Waiting for spring to come
With love and with light
Refract through our hearts
Gleam bold strong and true
Go out into the world
To shine forth anew

[Remus]

In my dorm room, I have a shoe mat. I know for a lot of people, that might seem like an oddly specific thing to start off a story with, but here we are. I’ve wanted one ever since I moved to Wisconsin my freshman year, so I finally bought one at the beginning of this year. Since the moment I brought it back, it’s been the home to (most) of my shoes, and I’ve really appreciated how it keeps my room clean (and the carpet less water damaged).

But for the last month, another pair of shoes has made their home there, too: a pair of blue flip-flops. At the end of last semester, my fiancee graduated and gave them to me after I told her not to throw them away: they’re pretty nice quality, plus I just felt it was wrong to throw them away. But since we left for the semester, they’ve just been sitting there, as if waiting for something to happen. So this morning, I decided to wash them up (they’d been shower shoes, so I didn’t want to give someone dirty shoes), dry them, and take them down to one of the Give n’ Take boxes in my dorm. I know that a lot of people will probably pass them by, but as long as they’re helpful to someone, I’ll be happy.

Seed to be planted
Filled with potential
Waiting for spring to come
With love and with light
Refract through our hearts
Gleam bold strong and true
Go out into the world
To shine forth anew

[Louisa]

I was in a low patch. One of those streaks of depression and anxiety where your aspirations seem far away and you fear you won’t amount to anything.

It was my first team building event for my new job. The graphic design team went to a renaissance festival together, and most of them had never been, so it was a delightful time. I didn’t know anyone especially well yet, and it was a nice opportunity to take my thoughts off my depression and onto colorful garb, bawdy shows, and beautifully crafted things.

One of my coworkers saw me admiring hand crafted metal necklaces, particularly one with knotted dragons and symbols meant to bring courage and creativity. I’d spent most of my allotted festival budget on games with coworkers and more than a little mead… it made me sad to leave it behind, but you can’t have everything.

A couple hours later, I was watching a show when my coworker sat down next to me. She’d been gone a while, but she tended to wander and reappear, so I hadn’t thought much of it. She smiled mischievously and handed me a small velvet bag. Inside was the necklace I’d been admiring. “It just seemed like too good a fit for you. I couldn’t help myself.”

The necklace isn’t magic. There were dozens just like it in that shop, and the symbols meanings very well be made up by the artist. But there’s a lot if generosity, compassion, and kindness associated with this object after years of wear. Perhaps it will be capable of magic today.

Seed to be planted
Filled with potential
Waiting for spring to come
With love and with light
Refract through our hearts
Gleam bold strong and true
Go out into the world
To shine forth anew

[Viviane]

The Quite Full Bottle

Once, there was an old man who lived alone in run-down cottage on the outskirts of a large town. He had lived there nearly his entire life, but nonetheless, the townspeople thought him quite strange and kept their distance from him.

One morning a young, scruffy-looking beggar came through the town seeking something to eat. But everywhere he knocked, the townspeople shuttered their windows and turned him away, each with a terse chorus of “I can’t give you anything,” or “We’ve not enough to spare.” Whispers followed him throughout the town Finally he came to the old man’s cottage and knocked on the door. The old man answered.

“Please, sir, have you any food to share?” The beggar asked.

The man’s eyes gleamed, and he gestured for the beggar to enter his house. The beggar did so, sitting down by the fire at the old man’s invitation. The old man then picked up a small glass bottle from his windowsill, showing it to the man.

“What do you think is in this bottle?”

The beggar, suspicious that the man seemed to be playing a trick on him, growled out, “Nothing. There’s nothing in that bottle.”

The man, his eyes gleaming, tipped the bottle upside down into a bowl, and suddenly, a stream of warm, hearty soup poured out of it. When he tilted it up again, it was empty.

“Most people would look at this bottle and call it empty. The truth is, they are wrong. This bottle is always quite full, no matter how it looks. The real challenge is knowing how to share what you have within.”

Seed to be planted
Filled with potential
Waiting for spring to come
With love and with light
Refract through our hearts
Gleam bold strong and true
Go out into the world
To shine forth anew

[Nimueh]

My story is nothing too special, just a simple act of kindness. It was my first time ever investing in fandom stuffs, and I decided to invest in this really cool bundle of LOTR elf jewelry. When they arrived, I found a message from the person saying that she’d included some other stuff as well, just as a little thank you. I always remember that, and as Gandalf would say ( I know, I’m very LOTR obsessed…) “I have found that it is the small everyday deed of ordinary folks that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love.” Well, I left one of those extra pieces in the park today after training.

Seed to be planted
Filled with potential
Waiting for spring to come
With love and with light
Refract through our hearts
Gleam bold strong and true
Go out into the world
To shine forth anew

[Cj_Heighton]

Now, see. Im no stranger to travel. I used to be terrified of it, never going unless i had a safety net, a way to get home easily, safely, with zero risk involved.

In the last few years i made a friend who changed my entire outlook on that. Ever since he started taking me out, ive gotten back a little of the light i lost the day i left the forest of the valley, with it millions of shining stars and the drum circles and chanting that accompanied it long into the night.

This being said, whether it was sitting in a circle of krishna worshippers, climbing a mountain, or sitting on the beach of mexico, one constant has stayed with me: my guitar.

Its been with me through breakups and dates, time and space. Its watched me graduate, fall into depression and pull myself out again. Its watched me go from being a confused teenager to a man whos finally, FINALLY finding himself in this insane, terrifying, horrible world.

Theres a poem, i once read, by a man named vian izak. Well, more a song. Its called “The Navigator.”

When the queen of shadow strikes
The navigator sets right
The lost who fell into night
The lonely in their plight.

The queen never holds her tongue
Hunting you since you were young.
All the while loves constant shield
Kept you safe as you healed.

The captain knows your true name
And never runs from your shame
He sent up stars as your guide
And drives the darkness from your side

So face the beast of life
Stand, dont take flight
You arent alone in this fight.

I like to think of my guitar as my captain, my navigator. Its my one constant, so what else would i even dare to use in this?

Seed to be planted
Filled with potential
Waiting for spring to come
With love and with light
Refract through our hearts
Gleam bold strong and true
Go out into the world
To shine forth anew

[Sellalellen]

I was at the mall with my best friend, maybe a year or two ago. I didn’t bring money with me that day, as shopping was sort of a spur of the moment decision, and so she bought me lunch at the food court and offered to pay for anything I saw that I wanted. I’m the sort that feels guilty about asking people to buy things for me though, and so I just accompanied her to the stores she wanted, enjoying her presence and helping her choose her items.

I’d mentioned I needed to use the bathroom, and on the way there, we spotted a Hot Topic. We decided to make a quick detour there to pick out a shirt for her boyfriend. We made the rounds in the store a few times, picked out a T-shirt, and then got distracted and tried on some jewelry. She asked if I wanted any of the pieces I tried on, and I said no, I couldn’t make her do that. She’d already bought my lunch, and I didn’t want to be a burden on her.

There was a long line at the counter, so she told me to hand her my purse and head to the bathroom, she would catch up later. I did what I needed to, we met back up again, and we carried on with our shopping. We were out for several more hours, visiting every thrift store and trying on clothes we never intended to keep. It was a really good day.

A few weeks later, I was emptying my purse of random junk - receipts, candy wrappers, earrings I’d given up on halfway through the day - when I found something unfamiliar. A flat circle of stainless steel, with skeletal hands reaching towards eachother. I had tried that necklace on at the shop, but put it back when my friend said she was ready to check out. She must have been really determined to get me a gift, and so bought it while I was in the bathroom, slipping it into my purse before I could object. It’s just a small thing, but I was really touched by her gesture. Since then, the necklace has become a favourite of mine, and I’ve broken and soldered several of the fingers back on as I refused to let it wear out. I never properly thanked her, but she looks real proud any time she sees me wearing it, and seeing that look on her face is a much bigger gift than she knows.

Seed to be planted
Filled with potential
Waiting for spring to come
With love and with light
Refract through our hearts
Gleam bold strong and true
Go out into the world
To shine forth anew

[Danweel]

An increasing number of years ago, I found myself in Japan, visiting a friend who was teaching there. I spent a month up in the mountains in a small village. It rained most of the time, and was extremely cold, indoors and out. But for a city person, it was an awe inspiring experience. An old lady lent me her bike for the time that I was there, and I rode around on my own during the day while my friend was working, and took in the sights. Rode through a rice field and through the unusual, bright, gardened walking alleys that twist between the houses - there didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the buildings, like they all grew out of the ground, fully architecturally sound and pretty, and every one of them different. I explored family shops and rode to the corner store, passing students walking home. Through the whole village you could hear the school bell letting them in and out. When the garbage truck went by, it would sing a little tune. I know people tend to be caught up in the magic of a new place, but it really did have a charm to it. And the things you can buy for just a dollar were incredible!

One day, my friend and I went to a restaurant for lunch. We ate and sat and talked for a really long time. The place was empty, so it was a while before we thought maybe we should get out of there. As we started to leave, both owners came out to meet us and gave our meal for free. I was surprised and embarrassed, feeling like it was just us looking special or something like that. Simple hospitality that a business doesn’t have to give as if it was someone’s home! It didn’t quite feel right.
But then, they offered to take us up the mountain that rose up out of the sea and stretched out across the whole south side of the town. Generally, where I’m from, you don’t jump into a car with strangers. But my friend and I felt too horrified by the implication of distrust to say no, so we didn’t.

They did, indeed, take us to the mountain. They told us a bit about it, in broken but determined English. They showed us where eggs were cooking in a hotspring bath (not one for people). We ate the random abandoned eggs. They were pretty good. All the eggs I ate there were really good - with bright orange centres… But the hot springs have extra minerals, and the eggs were particularly hot and pleasant.

We walked up the rest of the way. There were so many stairs. Rocks really, broken up and weedsy. We all struggled to climb them. It was funny, and we laughed about it, the special way you do with people you can’t speak to very well to - it’s hard to be glib or make jokes after all. It has to be straight feelings of amusement, shared with others without much of a filter. Just laughing about it, about whatever happens. Sharing, rather than conversing or trying to be clever.

We took pictures to rest. And finally at the top, we found a shrine. I don’t know what else I was expecting, other than that any of my fears about the couple were gone after the delicious eggs (it’s what they say about sharing food), and my friend and I were both curious and a bit shy.

I think the couple were amused that we were trying to be respectful. The stone and wood shrine was in a bit of rough shape, but was large enough to withstand quite a long time more. A shrine box for offers sat in front of it. A pretty old, sturdy box. To one side was a frame with bells hanging from it.

The couple then showed us how to ring the bells what to say and then pray to the fox spirit that lived there. Fox shrines I’d thought always had fox statues - many of these statues wear little cloth bibs and its all very cute. This was an abandoned shrine way up a mountain. We would have never found it. You have to want to drive up for the view and the eggs, and still be curious to make your way up the stairs tucked away.

I made a wish, it was something about protecting this place, or perhaps the couple that helped us all the way up here, and gave the fox some of the coins still hanging out in my pocket. It wasn’t enough, I’m not used to carrying change. I think it was 60 yen. Not even a dollar. But sometimes animals just want more shinies, so I hoped it wasn’t insulting. Just in case there were spirits. I’d always kind of believed in ghostly spirits, collections of energies or thoughts, or passed things. Not sure, just that I’ve always had a passion for such ideas, even if it didn’t exist. There’s not a lot of representations of this in North America, so perhaps it shook me a bit to be confronted with a possibility to engage when you get used to not believing. Even if other people believe, that’s enough, to me, I think. There’s something to that, and it’s important in a way I can’t really articulate.

Anyway, I ended up with the coins again. The couple said that the fox gave them back. I presume they opened the box and took them out, which probably horrified me so much I honestly can’t remember it actually happening. Maybe it happened literally and I can’t remember. But the former is more likely.
I also can’t remember where the keychain came from. It was on the same trip. I don’t think I bought it. I do remember thinking that it would be appropriate to put the coins with it, so I’m pretty sure it was found. I wouldn’t have bought something like that just to do that. I don’t remember a lot of small things about that trip anymore. It’s been a long time.

Since, I carry it around. Somehow, I never lost it in all that time. I’ve taken it off now. My life is totally different. So I think that’s okay. I never thought to remove it before. So I’ve taken it off, and I have a feeling I’m going to know exactly when I need to give it away. It would be convenient to do that right now, maybe randomly - and though that’s how I got the fox figure, that’s not how I got the coins. But I think it’s important to do it deliberately. It’s just a feeling I get. Maybe it knows something is up. Maybe it has a bit more will than that. I don’t know. It’s best to follow your feelings for these things, I think.

Seed to be planted
Filled with potential
Waiting for spring to come
With love and with light
Refract through our hearts
Gleam bold strong and true
Go out into the world
To shine forth anew

[Hummingbird]

I met my best friend on the first day of preschool. She was the first friend I ever made and we still are inseparable…if it wasn’t for the long distance that has always kept us apart.

When I was little, she lived about fifteen minutes away from me. If I could go back in time, I would spend every second with her because this was the closest to me she has ever lived. In high school, she moved the be thirty minutes away, where we had to brave the dangers of our biggest enemy at the time: the highway. We still sacrificed our fear just to see each other because every second I spent away from her was painful. Most of the time texting and FaceTime became our solace when we couldn’t drive to the others’ home. Then, college decision time rolled around and she told me she was going to a school in Vermont. Internally, my heart shattered to pieces because she would be over a thousand miles away from me. Not fifteen or thirty minutes, but a plane ride away. This meant I could only see my best friend on holidays and summer vacation, if she chose to come back to our home state.

You would think I would get used to it but sometimes I talk to her like she still lives in the same state as me, then she reminds me, and my heart breaks all over again. I’ve spent many nights alone my first year of college wishing that she was here. I missed her kind heart and her contagious laughter. I missed talking for hours with her about things only we were interested in. I missed planning things we could do the following week, knowing she was only a drive away.

I miss her.

Then one day I received a letter from her; something different than our usual texts. I didn’t waste a moment opening it to find a small handwritten letter and an orange and red bracelet tucked inside.

“For my wonderful friend whom I think of this fall season…
This bracelet is for you! I know how much you love the fall and how much you wish you could see the colors change, so I am sending you a piece of fall from Vermont!
I hope you like it and think of me when you use it! I miss you very much, and I want you to know that I love you!!”

I started weeping on the sidewalk outside of the UPS. My best friend had sent me a beautiful handmade friendship bracelet, not only with my school colors, but infused with the essence of autumn. She was blessed to be in a state where she could witness my favorite season change the leaves into bursts of sunset orange, apple red and golden yellow. But her kind heart couldn’t keep it all to herself. She decided to share a piece of it with me.

And now I share that piece with you. A simple item of woven yarn that connects our everlasting friendship miles away.

Seed to be planted
Filled with potential
Waiting for spring to come
With love and with light
Refract through our hearts
Gleam bold strong and true
Go out into the world
To shine forth anew