I love you because you taught me to let go….

I stand at the top of a hill. The hill is familiar, it’s where I go when I need to think… To figure out a problem. I am holding a giant dandelion in my left hand and a bottle of wine dangles by its neck from my right. I pick up dandelions… Mine and other peoples. Most of the the time they are eager to share their weeds. I don’t mind, I’ve always had a knack for carrying others weeds, for as long as I needed to, or until they die in my hand.

The dandelion I hold in my fist I have been carrying long enough that it’s brown on the stem. I have tried to set it down, not care about it. But I am fascinated and feel the need to carry it everywhere with me. It’s a problem. The fuzzy white top sticks out everywhere… Seeds barely hanging on. Waiting patiently for me to give the the boost they need, permission they have to have before they can fly away. I sit, realizing that carrying this giant weed around isn’t doing anything good for me… Actually it’s hindering a lot. I have trouble focusing working one-handed. I know what I need to do. And I have tried every other way to keep it happy with me. All it does is remind me of why I like to carry weeds around in the first place.
I take two steps forward, the lazy wind brushing the tall grass across the ticklish part of my shins. I focus because this is the biggest dandelion I have ever carried, and do the longest amount of time.

I feel the suns earth envelope me like a hug, the entire hill and meadow below seems to be holding its breath, waiting for me to make a move. Even the wind has quieted and all is still. I close my eyes and breathe in, long and slow, holding my breath for just a moment. I pull my fist to my chin. The head of the dandelion eclipses my entire face. It has grown even since I arrived. I breathe out, slow, steady, and peacefully every single seed is caught by the wind that suddenly seemed to know what it needed to do. I am now able to drop the stem. I stretch my fingers, my palm is an odd shade of red from how tightly I had been gripping my weed.

I look up and realize I did it, I finally let it go. The wind just was waiting for me to decide what I wanted to do. And with one breathe I released it.. The weed is no longer something I need to worry about. It’s no longer mine, and it feels nice to be free.