I believe that all of our lives, like trees, sprout from roots. Biologically stemming from our birthplace and date, we continue to grow throughout time. Not literally of course; one can be unaware of his or her history and still be able to consider their own identity and purpose.

Having moved from place to place several times in my life, I have found many different places to call ‘home’ and many different people to know as my ‘friends’. But as I have recently found, simply being aware of a certain past-time isn’t enough to keep it alive nor active.

Like wilted petals on a flower, they naturally prune and fall. Surely it cannot be denied that they once existed, but just like memories, without having some relevance or significance towards the present or future they languish and expire. Just the other day I pained myself over the inability to recall a name…

The psychological death of many once-important people to me ironically weighs me down just as baggage would. I’ve always thought the opposite was true; that keeping people who no longer play a big role in your life was a red flag for emotional baggage. I suppose this may have something to do with the concept of negative space, much like how silence in some instances can be deafening.

But what I have said about aging petals, thankfully is not completely true. New petals can grow, right? I’m not sure. This metaphor is being overly exercised, and these words have lost direction.