Creating Through Pain

This weekend was another heartbreaking one in the United States. I won’t pretend to have answers, because I don’t. I know things I think seem like the right decision, but I won’t posture or bullshit as though I have all the research and evidence and insight, because I know that I don’t.

What I do have is the ability to create. To keep creating. This fact was highlighted to me by Kevin Smith on Twitter on Sunday when he said:

So, I am doing just that. I’m working on my novel, I’m writing new pieces for Patreon (now closed), I’m building digital scrapbooks, I’m blogging…I’m creating in ways I know how.

And I wrote this:

To the Rose I’ll Never See Again

It wasn’t a meeting any of us planned.
At least, I don’t recall the sun
Sending me a Google Calendar invite,
Nor the bee
Asking me if I was free
That particular time
That particular Wednesday.
And yet, we were all there
Together
In the garden
Surrounded by other beams of sunlight, shining.
Surrounded by other strangers, talking.
Surrounded by other bees, working.
And I watched as your petals rippled
Ever so slightly
As the breeze wafted through.
The sun kept shining.
The bee kept working.
And then I walked on.
But first, I took a picture –
Not framed quite right,
Not lit quite right,
Not snapped in the moment quite right,
But a moment nonetheless.
The tour guide told me
That the best blooms were in July,
And I made a note that – when I return –
It should be in July again.
But when I go back,
Even if the rose bush is still there,
And even if another flower blooms in the same size
And shape
And color,
It won’t be you.
We only met once.
You, and me, and the sun, and the bee.
And I have a picture –
An imperfect picture
Of an unplanned meeting
– to prove it.

Pink and yellow roses with a small bee perched in the center of one.

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Writer who loves dogs, wine, and pop culture. First novel in process. She/her.