I heard the grass was greener on the other side so I gathered myself and got over there.
Truly, it was. I could breathe deeper and feel more: the waxy coat of green on every cell of my skin, inside and out, a breeze that was the softest I’d ever felt, a true gift from God – rotating small hexagonal sun rays from the sky and warming my being. There was no need to chase it for it was weak enough to not move me and strong enough to make me want to stay.
So I did.
With my body stretched across the greenery I thought about how sad the other side was. There remained no desire to dwell there – I’d found joy elsewhere. The grass was greener on the other side.
That was, until I found that the sides were on different planes of the world. Some have summer in August and others in January. From this side I witnessed the blooming of blades where I’d abandoned discomfort as the roots beneath me shrivelled to a tone of beige; dull and lifeless.
Hives of dissatisfaction birthed on the skin that those blades once healed and I itched them to no avail. Some scars will never fade, I realised. Things weren’t getting any better on my side – perhaps the grass is greener where I am not.
Or perhaps – it’s only a matter of time and season until that makes a change.