Note from the author: This piece was written a few years after leaving the mission field and I was struggling with the reality of how life can move on without you. I was at a point in my life where nothing made sense and I could not find where I belonged in a world that felt like it wasn’t made for me. I was losing friendships and I didn’t understand why things had to change. Through my piece I discover the beauty that hides behind this kind of life and how not every flower gets to bloom all over the world, some simply stay where they are and still flourish.
they often don’t remember me.
when high school essays and break ups teach you to lean on the shoulder of another,
no one tells you they don’t stick around.
no one warns you that friendships can end.
the beauty of a foreign school-
the life of a missionary kid-
you learn to pack roots light.
to bloom fast,
because you always know, you have to leave the garden.
i’ve owned the problem.
i’m too quiet, too strange, too slow to text back.
too much- too far from easy.
i’m too loud, too odd, too habitual and sane.
not enough- too easy.
but time does something cruel, doesn’t it?
it forgets.
it wraps people in new cities,
new jobs,
new last names-
and suddenly, all the group chats bury your name.
i know this because i scroll through memories that don’t scroll back.
and facebook has no patience for me.
but it’s okay,
because not all ghosts haunt out of malice.
some are just there.
and i promise every time im asked if i remember.
i do. i always do.
but i don’t forget to thank those that stayed.
or those that have been woven into the new flowers.
i’m thankful,
and though i may never leave the pot,
i can still build a garden.
I am a Canadian born citizen, who grew up in the third world country Philippines, as an MK. My parents had an orphanage.
Instagram : @the.unwrittenfiles
