No Different

​The grass grows like weeds along the slope between the apartment and the church property line. The pecan trees across the fence are covered in overgrowth from a lack the pruning. By the look of the three adjacent properties, the church, the apartments, and the vacant lot across the street - this was once a pecan grove. Probably with an old farmhouse and a family, before the highway was expanded along with the city limits. A history lost and forgotten hidden deep within ledgers in the courthouse vault never to be seen again.

For the last 100 years we’ve all left some sort of paper trail along the way. With everything from our birth certificates to census records, marriage licenses, property deeds, and eventually a death certificate. Your history no matter how small lay within those records. I’m giving myself a headache thinking of such things. No matter how large a fingerprint we leave it can all be forgotten. Tragic in a way, but it is all part of the cycle of existence. I mean weren’t we all put on this earth as stewards of the land? Till we grew too big for our britches.
 
So I sit here looking out a double-paned window, considering the weeds that grow in the fields. Asking myself how did I become a part of this? While there is no real answer for this, because we were all a product of either passion or necessity. Conditioned to live out our lives bending to the will of others. All to make us coherent and flexible to the rules laid out before us. But to what end? That’s a question I cannot answer. So I live with the shame of enlightenment to say such things. When I am really no different that anyone else.