It was quiet and early the morning I went away. I didn’t plan for that particular day, but a soft yet determined breeze picked up as I left which somehow made it easier to actually take the plunge into the unknown. There is an Irish saying apparently, may the wind be always at your back, that I’ve heard the family next door utter at times as a dramatic way of saying goodbye to each other. It’s curious how strangers’ words can stick better than anything else. I kept thinking about that sentence, and how vital it suddenly seemed for my journey.
My siblings always said that I would be the first one to leave. We were a big family in a long line of travellers and explorers, never content with staying put after a certain age. Mother and father both long gone, busy with discovering new places and faces all over the world. Or so I imagine because no one really knows what happened to them. We managed though, watching each other grow by the day, working to reach our full potential together. All the while knowing that someday, we would be separated for a long time.
A few days before leaving, I didn’t want to. It felt meaningless to go if it meant I wouldn’t have my loved ones by my side. They, in turn, assured me I would feel different once out there; to try your wings, you must use them. So I told them I would send petals home as letters, to show them I wouldn’t just disappear like mother and father.
The wind carried me down the road and beyond. At times I hit the ground so hard I wasn’t sure I would ever get back up. I saw a lot of a world I had never known before that. After a while, my petals ran out as I sent my final letter. So I landed on a grassy hill and here I shall wait; for the wind, for my siblings to leave our apple tree. I have a feeling we’ll meet again.