Bloom

I’ve been thinking about how growth rarely looks the way we expect. It’s not always graceful. It doesn’t always arrive with fanfare. Sometimes it’s slow, awkward, even painful. But then—suddenly, quietly—it blooms.

This week’s word came to me while walking past a patch of wildflowers that hadn’t been there the week before. No one planted them. No one planned for them. They just found a way.

Writing Five Words Deep has taught me to trust that process. That even in the aftermath of loss, confusion, or silence, something new can take root. Not in spite of the brokenness, but because of it.

Blooming isn’t about perfection. It’s about resilience. It’s about showing up again, even when the soil feels uncertain. It’s about letting light in, even when you’re not sure it will stay.

And maybe that’s what hope really is—not a promise, but a possibility. A quiet unfolding. A bloom.