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Hope is light gathering in silence until it crystallizes. quote by poetess Granddad’s Selectric waited in dusty silence, keeping the memory of words he did materialize. Its keys once polished, now dulled by years, still guard the faith he refused to minimize. As a child I listened beneath his desk, hearing letters lift like prayers my muse did recognize. His hands moved with a pianist’s grace, shaping truth into lines no shadow could incise. After he passed, I carried it attic-ward, a quiet procession where my childhood dream did die. Each summer I climbed the attic ladder, dreaming of stories my imagination did fertilize. Many years later I returned, the ladder moaning, heavy with mothballs, regret, and forgotten ties. My flashlight found its silhouette waiting, a ghost-bright outline time could not neutralize. I lifted the cover, hands on home keys, its faded letters whispering ‘don’t compromise.’ Something in me stirred awake, a long-kept dream beginning softly to rise. The first keystroke jammed, the second struck true, ink warming and with hope did energize. By the third paragraph, words unfurled through me, swift as breath my soul itself supplies. I felt the years fall back like dust, as if the attic air had chosen me to baptiize. that part of me that once believed in stories before fear taught my voice to downsize. And in that hush I sensed a truth returning, an axiom no silence could disenfranchise: In truth, hope patiently endures waiting for courage to mobilize. Gifts we bury still remember us, calling softly for us, our dreams to reprise. Even dust lit dreams can bloom when the heart dares to visualize. Every story waits for its moment, every calling waits to revitalize. Until at last, in the quiet glow, I let my long-kept hope fully crystallize. you may read the related story at: poetrysoup.com/short_stories/a_dream_deferred_13827

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