What in your life is just out of reach, but still starting to bloom? That is the question of today's

episode, and as I begin, I want to read a poem from page 125 of your only just beginning. It's a poem

that I wrote about an experience I had with my toddler outside watching flowers bloom.

I am learning that the beauty of the climbing rose is that it blooms again and again and again.

I take delight to gaze upon the fullness of its beauty at every stage.

From the first springtime bud to its branches,

stretching outward, every petal unfolds only to eventually wither away until another day.

It will come back someday. This is what I say, to the young boy standing at my side. As he tilts his head to the side,

so does the rose. Just wait. It's coming back. It's going to bloom again. The words are for him,

and I am telling this to myself too. The roses always bloom back, how they were meant to. I thought of this poem

today because I happened to have a window open where I could see outside of my window where normally

it has been a lot of winter trees where all of the leaves are gone and it looks very

gray outside and there have been quite a few overcast days recently and i turned the corner and i

realized that this one particular bush i guess you would call it had started started to bloom flowers. And I thought to myself,

oh, okay, I guess spring is on its way. Now I know, according to the calendar, that spring,

a new season is on its way, but it hasn't really felt like it and it hasn't really looked like

it. But it was something about that moment where

suddenly I could see it just out of reach and I started to recognize that something new was on

its way. And I thought of this poem because I wrote it about a year ago, about a year ago when I was

realizing after my autism diagnosis and everything that

unfolded after that and how a lot of my life just had to change, I knew something was coming.

I knew that I was going to have to make a big change. And that was around the time it was becoming

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