Still Standing

I’ve driven by the derelict building for over thirty years. It was old when I first noticed it. Steadily, with our persistent rains and occasional snowstorms, it has slowly inched closer to the end.

Each year seems a little less certain it will still be there the next time I pass.

It must have been built well, because it isn’t collapsing all at once. It’s leaning, sagging, giving in slowly.

It’s strange to watch something gradually disappear while spring is bringing renewal.

The grass is growing lush now. Tiny wildflowers dot the forest floor and trails. Birds are nesting, and the deer are meandering again.

Life continues its quiet cycle, not really caring about sagging boards in an old building.

A friend likes to remind me that nothing lasts forever.

Looking at the old building, I know that’s true.

Maybe that’s why, a couple weeks ago, I finally pulled over and took a photo—an old building leaning while the wildflowers around it were beginning to bloom.

I wanted to remember it while it was still standing—even as things fall away, seasons keep turning.

And for now, we’re blessed to be standing too.