A couple months ago, I discovered that my heart was like a
bungalow on the beach. The people I love stay for a time, some have permanent rooms,
others have left and shut their doors.
Well, recently I had found a shipwrecked sailor. I took him
in, and let him roam free. He mended cracks in my foundation, put up awnings.
He made a garden with trellis’. I was almost to the point where I would’ve
given him the keys to all the locked rooms. He’d made my life so
beautiful. But then there came the day
when he said that he had to go. He couldn’t live in my bungalow any longer. He
needed to go build his own.
So I let him go. Everyone needs their own beach
bungalow. But mine feels empty. He didn’t have a room that I could close off,
he had free roam of the whole thing. So now I need to remind myself that it isn’t
empty. He isn’t gone, he just is building his own down the street. I’ve seen
the plans for his bungalow, and know it will be beautiful, but I can’t help him
build. He has to do it himself. So, for now I just see him around, and wave.
And go home to my empty house, where I’m surrounded by the things that he
updated and made beautiful for me. Maybe
one day we’ll exchange keys, but for now, I’ll be content with the garden
trellis to remind me how beautiful it can be.
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