There is no growth in your comfort zone, and no comfort in your growth zone.
Perhaps I did not speak clearly
And lost my meaning in the words
Isn’t it strange how we face life dearly
Not knowing just how much it hurts
I live on a farm. Most of you who are reading this post know that, because it’s something that I’ve talked about often. I knew that it would be hard and that it wouldn’t be something easily done.
You’d think I would have been able to prepare myself a little better and I thought I had. Especially after two and a half years and counting, but I wasn’t ready.
Not by a long shot.
I’m still not ready and I doubt I will ever reach the point where every single loss, no matter which type of animal, doesn’t cut into the strangely still soft heart I possess.
But if I didn’t keep trying, then I don’t think I would be able to keep going at all. Giving up, giving in, has never really been a part of my personality.
I’m not going to add it to my list of character traits now.
Because all of those that I have lost deserve better from me than just being memories that I run from.
(In other news, I have learned how to perform CPR on small mammals. It should be noted that if they aren’t revived within 10 minutes, it’s too late.
But that doesn’t mean it will always be too late.)
This small poem and accompanying ramble was brought to you by Dungeon Prompt: Defined by a Quote.