Rootbound

by Tarah DeWitt

When I was in nursing school we learned about wound debridement: the act of removing the dead or damaged tissues in order to improve the healing potential of the remaining tissue. I can’t help but find it darkly ironic that, broken down, that word is de-bride-ment—exactly what the process of divorce is: un-becoming the bride. The wound happens, that initial break, the injury that calls for the divorce.

Because that’s the singular constant in life, isn’t it? That one minute you are completely obliterated by it, and then in the next moment, it carries you toward something else, regardless of whether or not you’re still emotionally reeling.

The best part is when you get past all that and get to feel that peace, when you know the other person feels for you what you feel for them, and they’ve already seen you at your worst, smelliest self, or love the effort you’ve put into being high-maintenance and can actually appreciate it. When someone’s gotten to know all of that and still wants to get to know you more as you change and grow—to figure out the changing you, and you them. That’s the most intense and best feeling.”

It’s a sandwich, but it’s also tangible proof that I took up space in his mind, that I existed here. It’s proof that he knew some insignificant part of me, and that maybe he understands—or cares to understand—some of the bigger parts, as well.

“When you buy a new plant, you often have to cut the roots when it comes out of the pot. That way, when you put it into the ground, the roots will reach outward, and it will thrive. If you left it in that plastic pot, in that compacted shape it’s in, the roots would grow around and around in a tangled mass until it’d choke the life from itself. It would become too rootbound to grow.”

His lips and tongue crash into mine and it feels like I can finally breathe, despite him stealing my air.

I want him to know I love him for simply existing.

Any living thing that has your love is the luckiest thing on the planet.

All love, at some point, is going to be devastating, isn’t it? We all just choose to be brave, to go after what we want, who we want … even if it means potentially losing a piece of ourselves.

What makes this worth it is that there will be heartbreak, because of how damn good it will be until that happens.”

I want to love you until it’s devastating.

“I want to put down roots here: beside you, across a pond from you, somewhere new with you, I don’t care. You’ve made me want to do that, to plant myself somewhere and flourish.” My forehead falls to her stomach until I can steady my breathing. “I want to love you until I’m absolutely devastated too, Tait. I’m going to.”