The Bloom
Over the weekend I pretended I was a young man and donned my road warrior gear. Rode to Houston with a friend on Friday to watch football. We won. Got up Saturday and rode back home. Took a nap. Got in my own car drove to Galveston to be with my daughter, her husband, and young family. Yesterday, I rose early, drove back home, went to my group grief counseling session, and then had dinner with a friend. It was a weekend of well-connected dots.
Today, if there’s time this morning, I’ll put up the final strings of lights in the trees, then head off to be with more friends this afternoon. The days are filling up. The nights are still empty, but I’m confidant you can’t have everything, the cup is half full, and every other cliché you’d like to use about looking on the bright side. Because there’s lots to see on the bright side, which I suppose is because its bright. And that makes sense.
Take my little rosemary plant that went in the ground two years ago to replace the giant that died. I’ve watered it, nurtured it, and gave it my plant love. This year it bloomed for the first time. A tiny blue flower sitting on top of the little green plant. It’s a start as they say and more will come, I’m sure or at least, I hope. After all, nothing is for sure. It’s a lot like people, you give them your love and wait to see what comes back. Meanwhile, all you have to remember is you can’t make a plant bloom or someone love you. They have to do it on their own, but boy when they do, it’s really fine.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale