Earth is Dying

Chapter 4

When I got to the orphanage, the first thing I noticed was the garden. It was pretty much the only place I could go to that was actually enjoyable. The woman who founded the orphanage believed that everyone, no matter how poor, or "less-fortunate", should learn the useful skill of growing their own food. The garden was a place of peace and solitude, and also coincidently where I spent the majority of my time. Most of the kids, however, never even went to or thought about the garden once, and spent their time playing games like soccer or football, frolicking around like nothing mattered. But the garden mattered to me, it was something in my life that I could control, something that made me feel important. Planting gave me hope, and I loved seeing a new green sprout shoot out of the dirt like there's nothing bothering it in life. All plants need is some sun, water, and air, and they turn into something beautiful and magnificent. I've always been jealous of the plants, and sometimes when I sit in the grass, staring at the rows of sunflowers, I envy them. I know what you're thinking, how could you possibly be jealous of a plant, that's literally so stupid Layla. But I'm jealous of how simple they are, and how every change that they have to go through, like bursting out of the seed, and erupting into the air makes them more beautiful. Everything that they go through turns them into something better, but every change I've had to go through in my life has made me feel so unbearable. Sometimes, I sit there, watching them grow and wondering when it will be my turn to transform. I wonder when I will stop having to go through changes, and when I can look forward to having peace and enjoying an unbothered future, something I've never had and is so hard to picture. But watching the plants makes me inspired and grows hope that eventually my change can be for the better, it just takes time, and patience, something I need to have. Every once in a while, a blue butterfly comes and lands on one of the sunflowers, as I tend the garden. He usually visits when I'm having one of my more hopeless days, but sometimes he's there on days I feel hopeful too. I use the term "he", because I know that the butterfly isn't just a symbol of hope, its my father. I know this because of the peace I get when he lands on my finger. Sometimes, when the stings of life, and the reminder of his death are too hard to handle, he comes to remind me he's still here. He comes to remind me he's always there for me, he's my calm in the middle of the storm. He's my anchor that reminds me that I can be steady despite the heavy waves crashing around me.

Because of him, every day the pain gets easier, even though the memories are unforgettable. Every time I see a butterfly, I tell myself that it was sent for me, as a reminder that everything will be okay and that life is worth living, even in those times when the last thing I want to do is see another day, that's what my father does for me. He makes me understand that it's okay to be alone, and its necessary to heal in solitude. The most important thing someone can learn is how to be comfortable with the idea of only having yourself for the rest of your life. Once you're able to live your life alone, then you'll be sent other people to join the ride with you. After approximately 100 days of being okay completely alone and giving up on the fact that Miles wasn't coming back, I made my first friend here.