All for the best (a microstory)

Only a fool would offer a gypsy a home to live, expecting him to never leave.
And she was one!


He was always the wandering kind. Fickle as a cloud. And she, sturdy as a tree stood tall, gripping the soil below her firmly planted feet.
When she met him, her roots only grew stronger. She bloomed with self-confidence in his presence, showering him with her fragrant flowers every now and then, thinking that would make him stay.

But soon enough, she realized he wasn’t happy. The far-away look in his eyes made her sad. He wasn’t looking for safety. He wanted to walk on the edge. He didn’t care about her flowers. He was born to chase the wind.
Because gypsies did not need firmly rooted trees for company. They needed caravans that would move with them on all their adventures.

She, who always took pride in her stability, realized that sometimes consistency was not enough. Change was the only thing that could make him hers. And she was incapable of change. For what was a tree if not strong and sturdy. If it changed, it would be a tree no more.

She knew she had to let him go. They weren’t meant for each other.
He was meant to travel.
She, to stand her ground...


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