I used to think every relationship I had was like growing a plant, could be a flower, could be a small tree, could be a decorative plant, could be a tree.
I have a rack full of them, some beautiful little flowers I seek every time I need some air. Some little decorative plants I rarely check but I know we are growing up together — and enough to be well. Some little big trees are still blooming. But one tree I treasure the most, sadly had to stop blooming.
We had a thousand branches, the leaves were healthy and green. It grows fruit and flowers, happily, some fell with yellowish stains, and the stem was full of scratches, our initial, our heart, our words, everything. But sadly, even though my soil was flourishful…the wind, was not good enough. It was out of my control, the sin, the vile, the insane action I am fully aware was unforgiven. Something I thought was separated from my land is glued. Dejectedly, the faulty wind was part of the land. Part of the site. Part of me that I have to embrace somehow.
I want to scream, it is not part of me! I want to write I am still a part of the tree we grow together! But I could not, because no one knows the truth. No one. And the sad truth, I could not grow the plants alone. I could not, I cannot do that.
What I could do is to give some time, wishing time would heal (I doubt it), I would try to water the tree, make a better ground and land as our foundation, blow away, and have a fight with my own wind. Whispering to myself, I hope everything will be okay. I hope our tree won't stop blooming.
I hope in the future, we understand how to take care of each other in better ways. I made a mistake. I hope we all forgive ourselves. I can only hope on an ordinary tree.
