Dandi

She had spent her whole life becoming lighter. Until eventually, almost nothing held her together. A breeze moved through the field. Not a storm. Nothing dramatic. Just enough. One by one, pieces of her began to lift away. If you didn’t know better, you might think she was losing something. That she was coming apart. But each tiny piece carried a seed. And each seed carried the possibility of beginning again somewhere else. So she didn’t fight the wind. She let it take what was ready to go. Across the grasses. Through the layers of green and violet and gold. Beyond everything she had known. Perhaps there are times when letting go and losing look exactly the same.