In honor of Earth Day. In honor of the actual earth. In honor of you and me and the difference between stewardship and ownership. In honor of not believing the lie that making money is worth any other cost.
I’m sorry for taking you for granted and for failing to appreciate your resilience and unfailing service. I’m sorry for all of the times that I ignored your needs and gave you coffee instead of sleep. I’m sorry for hating you and for when I forget that you did not come from a generic human template, but that you took form at the very fingertips of God. I’m sorry for all of the too-much and not-enough. I’m sorry for leaving you inside and in hiding, cross-legged, aching, and stiff, kept from the kiss of the sun and the breeze of a new season. I’m sorry for not loving you well and for thinking that other people could love you for me; for leaving you in places from which I cannot get you back.
I wonder if my time spent betrays me and my words; the ones I use to explain why the effort will be worth it. I wonder if the small moments that settle and grow between everything hold more truth than the place that I thought I wanted to go.