We know that flowers in flower shops do not last long, but we buy them anyway. We whisper to them, hoping our messages reach our intended: “I’m sorry”; “You mean so much to me”; “I’m here for you”; “I’d like to treat myself for a change”. We enjoy their vibrant beauty as the light up the bedroom, the living room, the dining room, the dorm room, the everything-in-between rooms. Their petals tickle our noses as we nestle into them. Their long stems curl in the vases. Their roots take hold in the soil of little plastic pots. They see us off and welcome us back, with their still and comforting presence.
They see us when we just roll out of bed, when we are dressed for battle for the day ahead, when we are a mess, when we are animated, and they take it all in. They take it all in in between long drinks of sunshine and sips of water. They give us the benefit of all of this and only ask for a little care and attention from time to time. And over this time their soft petals start to crumple and shrivel up, dropping like snow. Their green stems give way to yellowish-white.
It is time for them to be discarded. There is a brief sadness, but we can move on. We knew going in that this would be temporary, but we were okay with that. We were okay with that because the joy they brought made it worth pursuing anyway. There was purpose, however short-lived. And we are certainly not discouraged from buying flowers again in the future. Why should we view other things in our lives any differently?