🌕 The Oak and The Marigold in the Moonlight

A Farewell in Essence Grove™

They stood where the Grove thinned into open field.
Where roots ended and breeze began.
The moon hung heavy above them, full and unblinking.

She didn’t want to speak.
But this wasn’t a moment for silence.

"You were the one who never gave up on me," she said.
"You stayed.
When I couldn’t show up for myself, you did."

He looked at her the way only an Oak could—
still, steady, unafraid to hold the weight.

"I want you to know I didn’t leave because of you.
I left because I finally started building something,
for myself.
In the middle of becoming who I needed to be,
I found a love that shook me awake.

Maybe not to stay, but to show me what I want.”

She paused. Her voice didn’t shake, but her heart did.

"It made me doubt everything.
Not because it was wrong,
but because it was real.
And I knew if I stayed, it would hurt you more than leaving."

The Oak didn’t flinch.
He had always known this day might come.

"You loved me when I was learning how to heal.
But I kept growing in a direction that pulled me away from us.
I couldn't ask you to stay wrapped in something
that no longer made you feel chosen."

She stepped forward, close enough to feel the warmth
of a past that once held her like home.

“I’m sorry.
For the mess.
For the exit.”

A marigold brushed against her ankle.
She smiled faintly.

“You deserve a partner who matches your root system.
Who doesn’t flinch in the quiet.
Who loves you for the stillness, not despite it.”

She reached out, not to stay, but to thank him.

“Thank you for the years. For the steadiness.
For feeding me when I wouldn’t eat.
For loving me when I didn’t know how to receive it.”

They stood in the moonlight a little longer,
neither rushing to end what had already ended.

Then she turned.

Not in fear.
Not in guilt.
But with the soft, certain step of someone
who had finally returned to herself.

As the breeze carried her forward,
she whispered one last truth into the Grove:

"I hope this is okay.
I just want to honor what we built;
not tear it all apart because it ended."

Then she turned.

Not in fear.
Not in guilt.

But with the soft, certain step of someone
who had finally returned to herself.