Growth

Growth.

I am 22 years old and I am still growing every day.

I am learning that everyone is not as honest as I am;

That not everyone is in your corner,

But the people that are need to be cherished and loved.

I am learning to lead children outside,

To keep from being critical,

To surprise him in the morning with a muffin and a coffee,

That going to the gym really does make a difference in muscle tone,

To leave your phone in the car so you won’t forget it in the store,

That sometimes a trip to the doctor is all you need.

 

 

For me, it’s hard.

I work with living organisms

Squirming and growing in subtle ways

Every day.

How can I lend consistency when I myself am growing?

I’ve stuck my fingers in too many holes.

Someone take my shoes off and I will use my toes.

 

 

My growth is ragged, like a line of racing horses.

I pull to the lead in one area…

Fall behind in another.

Take my writing, for instance.

What do I do with this bent?

My education is another.

Where do I go from here?

 

 

But one thing I do know.

I fear growth less than atrophy.

When will my world start shrinking instead of ballooning?

What will be the cause?

Alzheimers? Depression?

A chronically ill child?

No money?

I cringe at the thought and hope that I will always find a way

to find the joy

In growth

 

 

Until I die;

And blossom in an everlasting land.

 

This "poem" is partially responsible for the birth of this blog...this poem and an evening conversation idling in E's truck after church. We'll see where it goes.

 

- A