where the roses bloom

(Author’s Note: I wrote this in 2020, and popped it into Failing Gracefully. I recently rediscovered it and wanted to share it - because I felt like it went so well with this concept of letting ourselves feel everything, and experiencing and accepting those dualities of life. The light and dark.♥️)

I am desperate to not become the sum of my experiences.

But I always feel like I am running out of time. So I keep moving, moving, and moving. Sometimes running. And sometimes I get tired. Sometimes I’d like to sit for a while.

But I’m scared. Because if I stop running, the past will catch up to me and try to make a home where I don’t want it. But if I keep running, I’m scared I won’t remember at all.

How do I run but still care?

I do not want to become the sum of my experiences.

But would it be that bad?

Do you remember the balloons in the hallway? They’d float to the ceiling each time we had a birthday and would stay there for months. Or all of the sheets of newspaper that held art projects, or how we made that library of unread books.

Do you remember the rose bush that bloomed in the spring? I’d take your hand and show you those bleeding hearts that lined our porch steps.

Do you ever assign meaning to things?

The orange bottles are now the sunsets you’ll tell him about. And each winter you’ll decorate the tree where my bed used to be. You’ll always be grateful for what you lack.

I can still love the past. The nostalgia and the regret.

I see roses everywhere. And for the first time in a long time, I know I am going somewhere.

I will always be the sum of my experiences. I will be the sum of you and me. Of the bleeding hearts and of the roses in the spring.