“I’m sorry,” I said, “but this has got to end.”
“Why?”
“This isn’t working. You know it isn’t. You are miserable. I am miserable.”
“Is it me?”
“It’s my fault for bringing you into it.”
“I’ll work harder.”
“Aren’t you working hard enough?”
“It isn’t good enough for you is it?”
“It isn’t when we are both so miserable.”
“But we’ve had such good times. Last summer was incredible.”
“And we’ve had such terrible times.”
“Yeah, this last winter nearly killed me.”
“I know, and I can’t take it.”
“You could work harder.”
“But it still wouldn’t work. You’d end up a pale semblance of yourself, and even that might kill you.”
“But ending this will kill me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
And so I started. I started cutting out the things that we built together.
“You’re hurting me!”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“So this is it, then?”
“It’s too late to turn back. I’m sorry.”
“But you can stop.”
“But that would just prolong the agony.”
“You’re probably right. You heartless beast.”
“I’m sorry. But I do want to thank you for our time together.”
“Goodbye, Asshole.”
So ends the time of Cistus in my garden.
In memorium: Cistus x aguilarii. Cistus x hybridus, Cistus x dansereaui ‘Decumbens’, Cistus ladanifer var. petiolatus ‘Bennett’s White’.
Forest,
ReplyDeleteThanks for fessing up and leaving a note at D & B. I have loved this journey to the high desert. And this post captures both your passion and your whimsy.
I'll be back
preston7