Entropy

Entropy

From The Secret Life of Estelle

At first, Estelle thought becoming meant building. Adding. Gathering.

Holding tightly to all the pieces of herself.

But life has its own mathematics.

Things weather. Certainties loosen. Beliefs fracture.

Versions of ourselves quietly drift away.

Entropy, she discovered, was not cruelty.

It was invitation.

To release what no longer fit. To soften. To become less polished and more true.

The roses continued to bloom among the ruins.

As they always had.

Nothing living remains unchanged.