I recently moved back to Southern California, from Orlando, Florida. There are many things I already miss about it, even though it's only been three weeks. One of these "many" is the Spanish Moss. If you talk to the locals, they'll tell you how much they hate the moss. "It grows rampant. It kills the trees." For me, the moss gives the trees such depth. It's like the pairing of tree and moss have a varied and more beautiful story than a tree that stands alone.
Shortly before I left Orlando, I made a point to explore a city I barely knew - as I only lived there a year before my painful goodbye. This picture was taken on one of those lonely days, where only tenacity and will power could drag me from my comfort zone to go exploring. For me, Orlando was never about the amusement parks or the tourists from Jersey and the Midwest or even about the gators and panthers. When I moved to Orlando, I believed it was for a better life with my family. When I left Orlando, I left behind my dream for the white picket fence. It was in leaving that I began to embrace the light and dark inside myself, the pain of the lessons I was learning and the bliss in the possibilities that lie ahead. One path ending, and many more appearing.
Spanish moss holds that power for me as well, in creating a life, another is destroyed. Dark, but promising and beautiful at the same time.
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