As I looked around I recalled getting arrested there, drinking stolen liquor over here, and snorting I don’t even know what over there…
Can you find peace in a place where destruction was had? I believe you can. I was a juvenile delinquent. One of the kids in the neighborhood you did not want your child to spend time with. We rode our bikes around in the summer and caused chaos, like an unwanted pack of birds waiting for you to throw away the other half of your sandwich.
I don’t know why we lingered the way we did. I guess we were just bored. And some might say it beat being on a phone all the time. We barely had phones. But we had a knack for doing stupid shit. And we did.
But when I went back to that neighborhood all these years later, I realized these were just places. More dilapidated now. But just a plot of grass. A baseball field. Someone’s old house. Nothing to be scared of. I am a believer that you can absolutely run from your feelings, but you can’t ever run from yourself. Wherever you go, there you are. Might as well heal from it.
Flowers Grow is all about that – healing from the pain and the shit. Realizing it’s really not so bad once you’ve put in the work. And, at the end of it, being able to make new memories in previously haunted places.
