Flowers have always been one of my greatest simple joys. They have always felt like the exclamation point on our home, and reminded me that good things grow here.
A few months ago, I started to notice a pattern emerge. I would buy them, bring them home, and set them in a glass of water in the sink until they died. I couldn’t find the energy to tend to them.
These flowers were such a perfectly painful reflection of my insides. They were the evidence of just how bad things had gotten. Something I had refused to concede on my own.
Today, I bought flowers. I trimmed them, and arranged them. And then I placed that symbolic exclamation point in the center of my dining room table. It was a gesture that said, I am Alive. And good things still grow here.
But they were always growing. Even when I couldn’t see them. The flowers are just a byproduct of the seeds that were rooting and taking shape during that dark time.
Man, life is messy. But also really good.