Stages, a metaphor

Instead of rising and writing before the sun appears, it was a tea-and-book-in-bed kind of morning. From the warmth of the covers, I could see the flowers under our painting of Catalan dancers and musicians through the patio windows. The bouquet was a combination of a gift and tulips we had bought on Saturday.

Then I thought about the stages of our flowers had experienced, maybe a metaphor for all our lives.

We bought the tulips as buds more green than the yellow bud above, perhaps the teenage phase of growing into adult hood. It was a pleasure of watching them open over the course of several days in the same way as I enjoyed my daughter's learning new skills, taking on her adult face and body.

Despite the right amount of water, the tulips were reaching out as if to escape, seek a different environment. Was that any different from my daughter leaving for Germany? Than university? Setting up her own life?

Looking close up at the tulips it was hard to believe the type of flower that it is. Can flowers have identity crises??? Is it the same surprise parents have when children take different roads than expected...the accountants children who become musicians or the musicians child that becomes a banker? We have no more control over our children's decisions than I do over the change in this flower. However, I continued to enjoy its new delicateness in its maturity.

Flowers are not people and with regret I will dispose of the tulips, something I would never do with my beloved child who also added beauty to my life but for decades not days.