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(Drooping but not Dead.)

The Captain brings me fresh flowers every week.

Without fail.

Sometimes a couple of blooms from the previous week are still good and find a home for another week amongst the newcomers.

Sometimes a couple are seemingly dead but still create a striking center piece amongst the fresh blooms. Their stems are sturdy and if arranged crosswise, provide support for new, soft and unstable stems.

It was late morning. I sat staring at my new flowers. The card the Captain gave me resting against the vase.

My thoughts took flight.

For weeks on end as they cycle through their “lives,” those flowers serve a purpose.

From fields or hothouse to cut flowers in a vase to wilted flowers to dead flowers.

Ah yes, the magic of flowers.

The tulip fields in Holland.

The flowers carpet in the Grand Place in Brussels.

Arrangements at a wedding.

I think of my life.

The seasons I’ve passed through.

The purpose I’ve served along my way.

There was the flower field of youth and innocence, or trust and enthusiasm and boundless energy.

I aged and wilted.

Having been bruised and broken, I had much to pass on.

Finally, when appearing drooping and dried out and seemingly dead (what a horrible visual that is!)

I find I have more to give than ever before.

My mental stems are strong. They crisscross and allow the new and fresh to rest on them.

I’m patient. I nestle comfortably amongst those coming along on Life’s Way.

I’m a listening ear; a truly empathetic mind.

I have no need to be the new and fresh.

I weathered the fall to wilted and on to dried out and seemingly dead.

And accumulated so much along the way.

I’ve known –

  • Success and failure;

  • Friendship, frenemies and enemies;

  • Good health and bad health;

  • Loss and gain.

I’m grateful if somewhere someone found a measure of comfort in –

  • My writing;

  • A phone call;

  • A card;

  • A text;

  • An e-mail;

  • A (gasp!) face to face talk.

Yup, my dried-out stems are strong.

Cyber Hugs and Blessings All. 

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