Humidity was stifling. “IT” had rained nearly every day or night. Was this the way aging crept up on us? The same conditions year-after-year, our ability to cope decreased proportionately.
Why was the word ‘IT’ given so much importance? Weren’t there other, two-letter words of equal value? “Well, ‘IT’ happened.” “That was the way ‘IT’ came and went.” Sometimes I wished “IT” would go away.
My front porch, purple New Guinea impatiens, succumbed from lack of water during my absence. Three plastic jugs of water left–no more than two feet away.
Watering instructions left with a neighbor, were all for naught. Don’t know why “IT” happened. My rebellious nature suggested bright orange and yellow, dollar store replacements. The irony of “IT” would likely be wasted. “IT” was, what “IT” was. Just stop “IT!”