You’d think my life is boring, and in some ways you’d be right. There were weeks more repetitive than others. Sometimes days blended into the next, and I’d lose track of time, only to be pulled out of the daze by the soft melody of a bird singing or a harsh wind. Some days the hum of an overhead aircraft or a toddler losing his dummy was the most thrilling part of my day. Some days I wished I could be with them, sing with them, talk with them, run with them. But I’d be chopped down to reality when my roots held me down, like always. Then I’d have to remind myself the pain of their ways, the sorrow and hatred that comes with the passion and delight, and I knew it wasn’t worth it. But I suppose that’s life. Or, my life. Dull. I suppose I served a purpose, but I’m not exactly sure what. But I’m sure I helped. That’s all I really wanted to do, help.
Yet on that day, that one day when I saw them, it changed everything. He was sitti