The world needs all its flowers.
I heard it at the end of a meditation today.
I heard it, hurriedly grabbed a leopard print pen that sits on our side table and scribbled it in small orange memo book.
I then thought about all of the things and the people that I consider “all the flowers.”
Books. Heavenly books I have run into the arms of virtually everyday these past few weeks.
The pointsetta kept all year long gifted from my mother-in-law that soaks in the sun. I absentmindedly reach out and stroke its leaves from time to time.
Our balcony at dusk where we have spent precious moments relishing silence, the comfort of our mismatched chairs and the sight of the tree where I often catch the same white cat perched on its branches.
My Mom’s text messages full of videos, jokes to make us laugh, inspire hope and advice to be as healthy and safe as possible.
Work. Knowing we are still able to help people even over the phone and via email reminds me it isn’t all over.
Friends. Knowing they are there is enough. Knowing they are there and safe is even better. I haven’t done all of the virtual “everythings” but I am still happy with the occasional phone calls and texts.
My family. I want them now more than ever. They are my first flowers.
Other creators– artists of all stripes still finding their art in the midst of it. Even if their art is a reflection of their weariness in these times, I have fallen in love with your vulnerability.
The small business owners I watch hustling their wares online. I may not have hustle surging through my veins right now but I respect their willingness and bravery to try to do this in unprecedented times.
All of the flowers taking care of the sick, carrying mail, delivering food, cleaning, stocking shelves, manning service stations, driving trucks and buses.
The flowers that bring us closer together and fight for those whose voice has been muted or forgotten.
My husband’s touch and voice that reminds me we walk together, never alone.
My Creator who made all of the flowers a reality.