Last fall I planted eighty tulip bulbs and hoped that ten
would bloom. Winter in almost nearing her end and I counted fifteen tender
heads already peeking through the ground.
Slanting strips of gorgeous rain has been pouring down all
day, I asked for five whole minutes of quiet just so that my puppy could take
his walk. We got four and in the fifth we came back drenched but with our job
done.
The house smells of the lilies that he bought and the dishes
that he forgot in the sink – it was his turn. The girls are excited about their
lives and future and I will not break the news; heartaches happen and losses
will have to be borne.
Today my mother turned down my phone call, she was too busy
playing with her grandchild and I laughed at her willfulness hoping to resemble
her someday. Today I heard from all of my old friends, apparently, time and
distance has not fully kept us apart.
There are reminders all over and everyday of the
arbitrariness of the rules that bring but temporary order into our chaotic and
out of control lives. I too have pretended long enough to assume responsibility
and bear my consequences without excuse.
Yet when I plant eighty tulip bulbs and ask for ten, I feel
extraordinarily blessed to count fifteen shoots making their way through the
ground.
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