I’ve had this draft post with this photo since mid-December of last year. With all good intentions of wanting to write frivolously – for fun not profit, I’d meant for it to be a 2015 round-up. Then the small things in life became not so small, furiously demanding for attention and more hours than they rightfully deserve, like an emotionally-broken boy who reached out and cried love.
Then it was too late and too awkward to reminisce what the Goat had brought to my table. Okay, it’s never the end of the world until we decide that it is, some underground band leader said so. Let’s turn this draft into a motivating piece about my resolution for the Monkey year then! Nothing more promising than a full-hearted pledge that would run its course in 2 months, if lucky.
As it is, the transition between the two animals left a momentary gap as to who sits on the celestial throne. This brief absence of a ruler shredded the fabrics of time, space, animal kingdom. It felt like this: blink and it’s 1.5 months since you first drafted this blog post.
So here we are, no recap to the year, no resolution to be shared and ceremoniously forgotten. Instead we’re left with words formed on the fly, and the dreamy – I hope – imagery of a pot of beautiful white roses.
Let me tell you about this pot of beautiful white roses. A beautiful birthday gift it was, from my artistically talented friend Haze Long whom despite her insanely creative, stimulating, aesthetic-blessed inclinations, had no qualms leaving a living thing in my questionably-caring hands.
These roses, along with a pot of chilli plant gifted by a friend’s mother have long met their Maker, whom curiously I imagine to be an ethereal version of Tom Bombadil. Nevertheless their brief existence serve as a painful but necessary reminder that I should not be trusted with pots, plants and the like.