In nature, softening is a precursor to absolute purpose.

The spring earth softens as it thaws, aided by warm rain, before it receives the seeds of newly budding trees.

The summer fruit softens on the vine, sending out a sweet scent inviting consumption whether by conscious choice of upright hominid or the instinctual drive of another animal. To reveal at its core – a seed – ready to be planted to begin life anew in next cycle. To play some small role in the attempted guarantee at species longevity.

They say the cervix ripens too. Certainly softening as it morphs from the rigid conical closure to a flat, welcoming entryway. Pushed and pulled into its new, only temporary form, by heavy uterine contraction and the signals sent on waves of hormones.

My body has been softening since I became an adult. Through layers of adipose formation, all arriving for different reasons: trauma, survival, pleasure, indulgence, creation. Eventually they formed enough sheets that they began to harden into a solid mass. It is beginning to soften again. Invited to do so by age.

I wonder what ultimate purpose will be revealed within me as I continue to ripen.