Theo

After weeks of sitting in my room not being able to write much at all, I decided to take a walk up the hill to the park near my house, hoping that a change of environment would trigger some inspiration. I climbed all the way up to the old playground, where there used to be a tree overlooking the whole city. I sat beneath its shade waiting for an idea, but nothing really seemed to come to me.
After a while, a father and daughter walked up towards the playground. The little girl went on the swing, and her father gave her a push. They laughed and played for about 5 minutes or so, and then they left. It was astonishing to me that I used to play with my cousins in that same park when we were little, and that now I was sitting from a far, sulking in my writer’s block. Eventually, the sun started to go down, and my hands got cold so I decided to head back home. Though I didn’t write anything that day, something about the fact that the old playground was still standing in that park—rotten wood and all—stuck with me. It made me realize just how fast things can change. Dandelion was my way of processing change and the effects that time has on the things we hold dear. Someday we will say goodbye to our friends, and to our home, and to our lover, and our father, and brother, and sister, and mother. And that’s okay because that is just the way it is. If anything it should serve as another reason to love them as much as we can while they’re with us.
I recently went back to the playground, and instead of a tree there was a stump. The playground also gave in to the rain, except for the teeter totter which would probably break if I sat on it.

Thank you to those of you who read this and listened to “Dandelion.”

P.S. Call a special person in your life today, and tell them that you love them.