Rusty. A term we apply to ourselves in apologetic preparation. A warning that our failings are bound to show. But the presence of rust implies weathering storms. Rust implies standing sacred grounds through harsh conditions. Rust means you made it. Out the other end of many dark skies, you’re stronger because of rust.
Rust merely encumbers utility, not inhibits it. You shall never be too rusty to feel a certain way again or pick up where you left off. Think of all the storms you had to survive to earn it.
Autumn leaves, houses of brick – beloved items that share the same color. We adorn our lives with it. We wait all year for nature to surround us with it. Rust is no blemish, it’s an adornment. It’s the time we wait for all our lives like the first chill of September.
The coming of rust is the hard earned seasoning of our fragile bones and warm blood. We were here before you came and we’ll be here long after you’re gone.