I sat, I sit, I laid, I lay in this room.
This room where I was raised laying between the roots of my existence.
The roots of the ones who created me.
My grandparents.
I laid down in this same bed next to my grandmother who slowly left us day by day
Laid here in silence, our thoughts doing all the speaking.
Outside you hear milestones continuing on
First steps still being taken
Yet this room, once bright and happy surrounded by butterflies and light up stars
Continued to slowly become a room of sadness and aging.
Years later, I now sit in this room.
Butterflies and stars are long gone, now replaced with mellow gray
A tint of green there to make things a little less gloomy then they are.
Nevertheless the aging, the sadness, the clouds prevail.
The man who worked hard his whole life to create the life my mother lived, the life I got to live
Now is bound to the walls of this room.
Locked knees
Canes becoming walkers
It’s saddening and terrifying to slowly realize you’ve spent your whole life watching independence wither away
So I sit in this room and think
About my roots, and how proud I am to stem from such strong ones
Roots that put a fight against the strongest of storms and never back down
Aging is inevitable.
It’s sad.
Heartbreaking.
But it makes you realize how short life is.
How important it is to stay true to what you want.
What you deserve.
And never back down.
Because one day I’ll be in my own small room.
And all I can pray for is contentment for the life I lived
And for the root I had been.