• Movement.
    Movement is inevitable. This summer, as I sit here on my porch and gaze at the grass in my yard, I realize this. The grass moves, with the wind, with the bugs on the stalks, moving back to its original position after someone steps on it. It always moves and there is nothing to stop it.
    I don’t know why it took me so long to realize it.
    I was so busy trying to still things. Trying to make sure that nothing moved and everything stayed the same. But now I know that this effort of mine was futile, and that nothing will ever stay the same.
    Change is the only constant in this universe.
    I sigh, shifting my weight as I think about this, about everything that has gone wrong by my simple acts to preserve my life, and I know that everything that has happened is all my fault.
    If I hadn’t tried so hard to change things, maybe the changing would’ve come easier, more natural to me. Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt me so much if I had just accepted change and movement in the first place, instead of working so hard for something that was out of my hands anyway.
    Maybe if I hadn’t tried so hard she wouldn’t be dead.