08/02/2026
Lillies. Beautiful once opened. Often not seen are the reasons for their beauty. Yesterday it was closed completely, bent over sadly. I managed to tie a straw to it but broke it twice. Sometimes you should leave things be; sometimes being broken results in beauty.
Yesterday, on the first day of the month, I washed my front door and saw the family of different spiders and I tried to clean around them, so as not to disturb their home and miraculously when I would accidentally get too close, the cloth would fall out of my hands.
I turned my living room into an exploded nursery with dirt and plants everywhere, discovered the plants I left in my trunk for weeks were actually live and not fake—I panicked to carefully untangled the roots and am attempting to bring them back; apologizing for my neglect.
I deleted the reminder set for every month on the first to trim the cats’ nails. I don’t have cats anymore. The last thing I needed to do was pick up and put away from my dogs’ corner was the grey blanket Tiger slept with every night. I picked it up out of the corner, not ready to wash it, but to sleep with because I got cold. When I picked up the blanket, a toy fell out that I had missed when I started putting everything away for now. To say I fell apart is a microscopic statement of the ecosystem of my existence.
Home is lonely and silent. The grief is heavy on my chest. My heart aches beyond belief. I hope I can be like the lily and the plants I’m trying to give life again. I hope.
