#20230510

I found a twig.

Tucked around my car's side mirror, forked stem perfectly nestled in place.

At first, I only thought it a minor nuisance, at 11:41 PM, thinking of the scratches its tiny body inflicted on the red paint of the car.

The twig greeted me again as I drove, I had nearly forgotten about it.

I thought of where it came from, what a shame it had broken off from its mother tree.

I imagined finding it a new resting place. Perhaps a neighboring forest, the half-manmade, half-natural marsh at the freeway entrance.

Someplace green.

Inevitably, I became attached to the twig. Studying its three knobby segments branching into a fork, the skinniest set of fingers I'd ever seen.

Seeds of anxiety sown as I planned to transplant my little twig as soon as possible.

My heart's ecstatic gymnastics in reaction to the rickety little thing scraping itself out of its hold in my car mirror.

In the end, it flew away on the wind and I was hit with instant loss, a microdose of grief. I still think of that twig.

Nara

2023/05/10

Nara

2023/05/10

Nara

2023/05/10

Nara

2023/05/10