Sunflowers

Five days a week I walk E to the bus stop bright and early. It's all of a decent blocks walk, we are still struggling to shrug off the sleep, but it's time. Time together, usually just the two of us, where I get to hold her hand if she lets me, brush the hair back out of her face, talk about school and what not. Each day for the last three weeks I've been pointing out a certain clump of plant life in a neighbor's yard. It's where the sunflowers bloom each spring. A tiny patch around a brightly painted mailbox no more than 18" square that seemingly at random spring forth with a glorious riot of color around my birthday each year. And then before you've ever really had your fill of them, poof, they are gone. It reminds me of fig season. I salivate in anticipation all year long, hunt them down - for they don't grow in my desert - thoroughly enjoy each and every bite and when I go back to the store for more, find out I've been stood up till next year.

Monday, I pause at the bright green plants with their study leaves and tightly closed buds and I say to E, "won't be long now.. the sunflowers are coming." She nods and smiles at me, not quite getting it but she gets that I'm excited about it and it's enough for her.

There they were this morning. 2 dozen or so tightly closed buds just lifting up their little heads toward the sun. but then I saw it... almost totally open, bright yellow petals shining like a new morning and that chocolate center looking oh so fine. I pointed. E looked, eyes wide like she almost didn't believe it. A shared giggle, a duck of her head and a wide shy smile came across that face. I've made my point. Good things come to those who wait, those who understand there is graceful and delicate rhythm to patience, anticipation and satisfaction, those who understand there is nothing gratifying about an instant.

For my 41st year I've made a promise to myself to slow down a little, to remind myself of all the truly wonderful and special moments we all take for granted. Each day a new thing or something I've failed to notice or something that brings me peace and joy. I'm going to document it. I have a couple weeks before the beginning of that year, but why not start now?