blog, Pat Aitcheson writes

It doesn’t matter


I said before that I stopped writing.

And I have, except that I am compelled to make my weekly blog post. It doesn’t matter whether I do it or not. It doesn’t matter if I break my commitment, made by me and for me. It doesn’t matter if anyone notices, or not.

The sun rises, rain falls, darkness descends, without my input. The flower pictured above was not planted by me; it was a chance seedling, happened upon one afternoon when I wandered down to the bottom of my garden. I saw it, but if I hadn’t, it would have been there just the same. It would be no less beautiful, no less worthy of close examination, or of digital immortality.

It doesn’t matter. Everything is temporary.

Barren places hide seeds that may yet bloom, more gorgeous than anything deliberately nurtured. You just have to shine some light, go down to the further corners, and keep your eyes open.

I’m finished now.

And that’s okay, for this, too, will pass.