Growth: scientifically known as “the process of increasing in physical size.” We know growth as the way the trees grow. The way plants grow. The way flowers grow. I grow too, but not quite as fast, at least not quite as fast as I would like.
Sometimes, I feel like I’ve fully grown. Like I’ve reached my maximum — like all of my leaves and fruits are ready to be picked — but I’ve nowhere near fully bloomed.
I want to grow each day. I want to be as tall as a tree. I want to look that giant sequoia square in the face, let the clouds fill my lungs, get the birds stuck in my brand-new hair that hasn’t grown a bit.
I want to swallow my vitamins by the fistful. Chug them down with a watering can. Feel my bones expand beneath my skin. Feel my roots dig deep into the earth. Feel the dirt on my scalp become a beautiful bed of roses.
I want to know how the trees feel, how the flowers feel, how the sweet green grass feels.
From now on, I choose to grow. I force myself to grow. I will push and push until I can not grow anymore. And when I am done, my seeds will be scattered, only to grow the same way I once did.
Tell me you can’t force growth, call me crazy, a fool, I won’t mind. I will water myself, I will soak in the rain, I will dry in the sun. Plant myself in a warm spot in the garden while I rise above the weeds. I will photosynthesize until I am who I want to be, who I am meant to be.
I will be better than before. I will grow like a flower from a seed, like a baby from the womb, like future me from present me, present me from past me. I will grow the way I have grown, the way I will grow, the way I wish to grow.