Things break.

“Oh, don’t spoil it. Don’t break it” we say when the child scribbles over the drawing or plucks the petals from a flower.  But of course, that is exactly what the child wants to do.  To me it seems that things are breaking more and more but perhaps it’s just that I’m getting more sensitive as I get older, and more resigned when I see the next breakage about to happen.  The mood that turns, the sun light that deadens, the walk together that ends.

The whole world seems to be breaking as if it is determined to tear itself apart.  Perhaps we shouldn’t try to stop things and ourselves breaking quite so much.

Not breaking, but breaking open – when the child pulls off the petals.