The destroyers snuck in when I wasn’t paying attention, when I was distracted, diverted by other matters. I’d lapsed, hadn’t been paying enough attention to the things I loved. Even though they were an important part of my life and meant a great deal to me and, and although I knew danger lurked nearby, I still didn’t pay them enough attention. It’s easy to slip up; there are many distractions in life. So when the agents of destruction snuck in, I missed them. They were able to set up shop and do their dirty work right under my nose without me being any the wiser. When I finally cottoned onto their presence, it was too late. Much damage was already done. The trail of destruction, tho now dry, had gutted several of my loved and treasured companions. The destruction was painful. It was ugly and made my skin crawl. I was loath to touch the things I had once caressed, inhaled, devoured greedily; they had been defiled, ruined. I wept. I got angry. I looked for someone to blame. I ranted and raged. But none of that could undo the damage that had been done. So, finally, I picked up the brush and started to clear away the dirt. It was the only and so the best thing to do. But it was not easy. It took a long time. I mourned all the while. But I also breathed. It could have been worse. The trail could have been hot/live and more damage could have been done. I salvaged what I could. I tried to see the lesson. They will always survive. Ok, so will I. One day/breath at a time. We will have to co-exist. But I must be more vigilant, must not lapse again. Patch up what can be patched up, replace what can be replaced, and move on. Tally the losses and realize they are fewer than feared and that even though there has been damage, most are still whole, albeit marked/smudged. Love them still, despite the imperfection, maybe even more. Forgive. It’s not like they willfully set out to hurt me after all. Soon enough all this organic matter will be consumed anyway. Until then- breathe, live, learn, love. And read.