I think I’ve sown sunflower seeds seven different times over the past nine years. Only one of those was the first, but the seventh was another first – the first successful year.
And here we are.
Happy day to all of the mamas. The mamas of biology and the mamas of love. The mamas of circumstance and the mamas of the moment.
Waiting for a bus to come, or a train to go, or the snow to snow, or waiting around for a yes or a no…
Everyone is just waiting…
But that’s not for you! You’ll go on to where boom bands are playing.
A picnic on blankets and chairs. His wrinkled cheeks under his chubby ones. Her hair cascading down her growing back. My toes, tiny, covered in dirt and red polish. His toes, tiny, covered in purple sparkle shine. We eat snow peas from ten feet away and listen to the bees on the broccoli and radish.
I don’t joke when I show my garden to others, introducing it as My Happy Place.
I don’t blame you, little blossom. I get that you’re down. I’m down. A lot of us are down.
How do we stand tall? When the drops are beating down on your head, the sorrow and worry on mine, the horrors of the world on so many.
But stand tall we must. Stand up, speak out, and make change. Inertia is strong, but we are stronger. The power in place is tall, but we can lift one another up taller yet.
Rise with me, little blossom. Do not bow too long.