Bloom Anyways

 

My backyard native plants were beautiful the day I arrived home from Spain. Over six feet tall, their purple blooms had just opened, and the bees, butterflies, and even hummingbirds had begun to sip the goodness within. Beautiful.

Then, the next day, we got some heavy rain. I walked outside the following morning to see the largest of the plants fallen over onto the driveway; its roots were too shallow to hold in the newly softened ground. 

I sighed sadly, and started to pull up the remains of the plant. Then I noticed the blooms on the plant, instead of wilting, had already begun to turn their faces to the sun. I stopped short. Who was I to deny the flowers their chance to adapt? So, instead of pulling the plant, I kicked some dirt over the exposed roots, trimmed the edges so it wouldn't get driven over, and left it to live if it could.

It could.

I've been home for a month, and the plant has thrived. Lazing about as it stretches across the concrete hasn't seemed to bother it in the least. (Thankfully, the extreme heat of the summer had passed by the time it fell over.) Not only did the blooms it had already formed continue to open, it continued to grow.  Over the past month, it created even more flowers, as if it were still standing tall.

There's a lesson or two here for me, I know there is.

Something about beauty not having to be perfect to be beautiful. Something about the possibility of still being able to find a place in the world, to fulfill the purpose for which you grew, even when you've been knocked permanently off balance. Something about giving things a second chance when they're down because they've been hit by the storm. 

Something.

I'm glad I didn't pull it up when it fell. *happy sigh*