It happened sooner than I expected. If I’m honest, everyone expected it. Maybe it wasn’t sooner, but actually, long overdue. It’s somehow like having a houseplant in the window that you’ve watched slowly die over many years. At first, it was beautiful, alive, and brought you joy when you looked at it. Over time, it began to fade for a variety of reasons. Regular care became occasional splashes of water that might give it a little perking up but never actually nourished it. As it faded, you drew the blinds to hide the painful truth. The lack of sunlight and fresh air from the outside only allowed it to wilt more. At some point, you realized it was dead and unsalvageable. So, you kept the blinds closed, you quit attempting to water it at all, and you just accepted that it was lost. Yet, you left it there because you couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away. If you looked at it, you would remember fondly how beautiful it once was and how it made you feel when it bloomed. Sure, it only bloomed a handful of times but while it was still green you embraced the hope that it could bloom again. The more it faded the more foolish that hope felt and at some point, you traded hope for reminiscing. You stopped looking to the future and just wouldn’t let go of the past. Until the moment came, someone threw open the window, knocking the plant out of your reach and it shattered on the floor. The dry, exhausted plant laid shriveled up on the floor, roots exposed, surrounded by dirt too deep to just brush away, and shattered pieces of the beautiful pottery that once contained its essence now looking like total devastation.

I take in a deep breathe that feels like it’s crushing my soul in such a tight space in my chest. In this moment, I realize I am the plant. My world is shattered around me. The dirt is everywhere, too deep to even see through at this point. My roots lie in the open, forcing me to see every wound that contributed to the rot of my foundation. What was once alive, cared for, wanted, and beautiful, is a shadow of the past and resembles an identity that doesn’t look anything like the truth of the seed it grew from. I remember the seed. I look up at the ceiling and know I have to clean up this mess. Just for today, I will not worry about tomorrow, or think about yesterday, because I’ve been there for so long that I missed this moment for far too long. So long in fact, that the end of forever came suddenly, so it seems.