The plant sat serenely at the side of the desk. Every leaf a memory of the passage of time. Every branch a marker of a period of its growth, periods the family had marked by hours or days or weeks or months. The plant marked them as they were – extensions of itself, new life springing, moment by moment. The plant was not static, as the humans around periodically became. It did not regard change as something to be avoided, but as something to be embraced.
Then, in an instant, the plant was toppled by the cat.
Change happens, slow or swift. We just need to adapt to it, and we will survive.