Citrus

how closely death and life exist. I finally watched the documentary you recommended, and it said funghi float in the air, invisible. that we inhale decay every day, mixed right in with the breath that gives us life. where one ends, the other begins: a circle, an eternal cycle. each child abused might one day become a healer. for every grove cut down, elsewhere gardens are planted. with time, our painful memories smooth into treasures we tuck away inside of us, gifts we harness to survive. suddenly our suffering becomes our strength, our bridge to some truer space. the tree’s roots dig deeper after the hurricane, ready for the next storm. we learn to love our losses, understand their upside. the bruise we thought would never heal eventually fades to be our beauty. our heartbreak is the bedrock of greater love, our grief a well for creativity. we realize that the foundation of life is not joy, but something much more bittersweet. the lemons rot in the bowl and we toss them behind the shed. years later, a citrus tree. 🍋