Reasons
by Mary Woods '21
She loves me, she loves me not. Over and over and over. The same number of petals, the same answer, every single time. Until I picked a different flower. I got the answer I had been waiting for forever. And I realized I was scared.
There was something reassuring about the lack of hope, the hard cruel facts. There was no uncertainty in ‘she loves me not’; no questions, just acceptance. Then I picked a different flower.
I was hit with waves of questions. They pulled me under and just when my head broke the surface and I thought I knew, I was hit with another wave, and another, and another. I wanted to swim to shore, to let the unanswered questions pull me to the solid ground of ‘She loves me not’. I had pictured the moment of “She loves me” before, of course I had. But I pictured it like I pictured stories about heroes, when they defy the odds and save the world. I never pictured the bodies that would be on the ground. I had pictured that when the day came when my elusive ‘she loves me’ was too tired to run anymore a triumphant day one where I began a noble campaign. But instead I stood on the end of a nest.
I stood on the edge of the nest and I watched. I was a bird in my nest, in my home and I was watching other birds as the teetered on top of the nest. And they teetered and swayed. Some turned back, back to the nest. Yet others jumped.
They sailed on love’s light wings. The winds of love strong beneath their wings and they soared. But I watched as the wind died down for some of them, and they fell. Some plummeted and hit the ground hard. Other were more graceful. But love had failed them either way.
I watched these birds with close attention. Some found the wind again and took off. Some never tried to fly again. Some just kept hitting the ground and were left with marks from the fall. And then I turned.
I looked at the ones that had stayed, the ones that had resisted the wind or never felt it. They were safe but looking at them I wanted to cry.
The wind calls us for a reason. Birds have wings for a reason. I could fall but I could fly.
I picked a different flower for a reason. I have a heart for a reason. I feel things for a reason. I can answer the questions and learn to swim. I can fly and get back up, because humans are not meant to be alone.
When you jump, you can either fall or fly. I was scared to jump, scared to fall. Scared that ‘She loves me’ would lead to scars. But I wanted to fly more.
There was something reassuring about the lack of hope, the hard cruel facts. There was no uncertainty in ‘she loves me not’; no questions, just acceptance. Then I picked a different flower.
I was hit with waves of questions. They pulled me under and just when my head broke the surface and I thought I knew, I was hit with another wave, and another, and another. I wanted to swim to shore, to let the unanswered questions pull me to the solid ground of ‘She loves me not’. I had pictured the moment of “She loves me” before, of course I had. But I pictured it like I pictured stories about heroes, when they defy the odds and save the world. I never pictured the bodies that would be on the ground. I had pictured that when the day came when my elusive ‘she loves me’ was too tired to run anymore a triumphant day one where I began a noble campaign. But instead I stood on the end of a nest.
I stood on the edge of the nest and I watched. I was a bird in my nest, in my home and I was watching other birds as the teetered on top of the nest. And they teetered and swayed. Some turned back, back to the nest. Yet others jumped.
They sailed on love’s light wings. The winds of love strong beneath their wings and they soared. But I watched as the wind died down for some of them, and they fell. Some plummeted and hit the ground hard. Other were more graceful. But love had failed them either way.
I watched these birds with close attention. Some found the wind again and took off. Some never tried to fly again. Some just kept hitting the ground and were left with marks from the fall. And then I turned.
I looked at the ones that had stayed, the ones that had resisted the wind or never felt it. They were safe but looking at them I wanted to cry.
The wind calls us for a reason. Birds have wings for a reason. I could fall but I could fly.
I picked a different flower for a reason. I have a heart for a reason. I feel things for a reason. I can answer the questions and learn to swim. I can fly and get back up, because humans are not meant to be alone.
When you jump, you can either fall or fly. I was scared to jump, scared to fall. Scared that ‘She loves me’ would lead to scars. But I wanted to fly more.
