Erosion

You know that it sweeps away pesky garbage, dirt, soil, plants, trees, rocks, boulders, glaciers, landforms.

It can start small, obviously, but once the big chunks start breaking off, it gets a bit harder to manage. The landscape's shape changes. Whole species of plants and animals are not seen any more. The place doesn't look familiar.

Here at midlife, I'm beginning to feel like an island in the middle of the river during spring runoff. Pieces of me are breaking off, washing away. Nice parts; soft ones like moss. Sweet-smelling ones like flowers and new grass.

What's left is sharp-edged, rocky and smaller somehow. Smaller-minded, with smaller amounts of patience, tenderness, willingness.

I don't own the river. I don't control the amount of water flowing past. But I do need to hang on to some of those softer plants far more tightly.