The Story

I told myself I only needed to survive what I thought would last only a month.

Sunlight poured over the flowers on the windowsill, softly drawing my gaze. Wary of the vase covered in webs, I searched for something I could salvage.

I wanted to photograph them.

How long has it been?

I quickly buried the thought. Today, I felt well enough to take a few photographs.

Uneasy and curious, I carried the bloom to my camera.

As I studied its crumbling form, I felt the weight of the time that had passed, the moments missed, and the truths left unspoken.

I could not remember what the flower had looked like before it dried. Still, I felt drawn to honor what it had become.

An eternal presence called me to look up, then to look deeply into my now.