I want to show case mental health issues. Show what is actually like, but with an important message. Balance. Love. Protection. How so? How is this different? The story is about a life force tree- a tree that is breaking and dying as catastrophes happen. A species goes extinct- a whole branch breaks off. Leaves little the ground every day with the lives lost. Leaves that decompose and fertilize. We protect the earth to keep the balance, balance that needs intervention from humans.

For weeks now I have had the same daily routine. Boring and maybe ‘meticulous’ to others but completely necessary for functioning. Only weeks because sometimes a new variable will be added, taken, replaced, or interrupted. I study everything and it takes time to get the combination just right for my methods. Oh, what methods Lily? you may be wondering. Methods that are completely irrelevant and useless to anyone with a normal brain.

First things first, coffee. 8 cups of water and currently 4 scoops- rationed like baby formula- ha. I only say currently 4 scoops because sometimes the scooper changes. Its been a dipping sauce container, a measuring spoon with no markings, and anything that seemed best at the time. There’s a criteria you see, for everything. Coffee scooper can’t have edges for the grounds to get caught on and potentially spilled. It needs to hold enough but no too much. I like handles. Oh but they cant be so thick that it forces my hands to touch the inside of the canister. I don’t like it sticking to my wet hands. I empty previous grounds into the sink. Bang on it. Rinse. Repeat.

Coffee Mate Hazelnut creamer, about 1/4 of the cup full. I need to buy more. I go scroll on my phone ignoring messages from my pesky sister and try to wake up. I should be productive, do something today that maybe releases some damn happy hormones. A shower seems to daunting right now. The thought of being wet and cold is often an obstacle I have to over come- and that out-rules the half sink of dishes. With a huff I get dressed. Turning on my plant lights while slipping on my slides. None of the plants looked full and healthy I prefer to take in ones in need. Damaged goods and try to nurse them back to health. Most of them scanned out from the grocery store or some handy me down gifts. “Good morning Franky the Ficus.” A ginseng ficus with two trunks, but only one had a few leaves. “Oh Patty! You have a new pothos baby!” Apparently talking to plants encourages growth- like people. Plus the exchange of carbon dioxide is always helpful. I address the others while I turn on the humidifier and check the wetness. Orchids, philodendron, English ivy, and some seedlings that will most likely fail.

One block to the grocery store and only getting what I have to. Creamer. Bread. Pop tarts. Maybe a couple apples. That should be enough for a few days.

She stands short at 5’4” with brown frizzy hair that sometimes adds up to four inches. Her hooded brown eyes don’t work as well as they should, so they are shielded by big blue glasses. Her lips are almost as full as her round face. A light dusting of freckles cover her shoulders and nose. Usually found in earth tone clothes and patterns from the 60s. Her hands are dry from use and her nails bitten back from anxiety. They often shake and her chin follows. Broad shoulders that she wishes would slim. Wide strong hips but sadly weak ankles.

When I was little tot my grandma was my favorite place. Her kind smile was the welcoming mat, warm embrace the front door. She created so many core memories I’ll never get to reminisce with her.

Playing hide and seek in the corn stalks and ending the evening with numerous cuts.

Digging for rollie-pollies in her flower bed.

Scrapping her floor by dragging a kitchen chair so I could reach the cookies.

Her nimble fingers dancing over the piano playing while she hums hymns.

The best one- sitting on her porch swing inside her sunroom. A pearly pink conch shell pressed to my right ear- swaying my feet to the ocean noise. My grandma on my left playing the ukulele and rocking the swing. My fingers mimic hers the best I can and all I see is gold.

I taste sunshine and feel it’s heat in my heart.

Thank you, for nothing.

Thank you for not being there when I was learning how to ride a bike. Thank you for being occupied while my brain was malleable. For forgetting to teach me. For being cruel. For pushing me away. For missing milestones. Thank you for never being there, for showing me a father figure isn’t imperative. That I’m happy and healthy and healed. Thank you for nothing and that gave me everything.

Open skies beckon in something broader then we originally though, it was ginormous. Bows of steel split the clouds bringing the imagine of a airship. The same airship my father served on. The same airship that hunts down the remaining humans. The same airship that will surely be my departure. The A.I.A.( Andromeda Imperial Army)DESTRUCTION.

I froze in terror unsure what to do. The shelter was two blocks away. Our home desecrated by scavengers and we had nowhere to turn.

The bottom panels of the ship started to fold open.

Carly pulled on my shirt sleeve trying to urge me to move.

A luminous blue orb was starting to emerge.

I looked at her wide glassy eyes and squeezed her hand trying to send her a reassuring smile.

The sirens wailed and so did she.