The day after our first few cases of Covid-19 was announced, I sowed a few sunflower seeds.
74 days or 171 cases later, one finally bloomed. I remember sowing some seeds hoping that a few would germinate, and of that, I’d get at least one or two to open up. And one did.
I wanted it to remind me that when Covid-19 is all over that there is so much to be hopeful for- that there’s life to look forward to. But Covid-19 isn’t anywhere near finished, and despite that, I somewhat got what I asked for.
When I noticed how tall she was getting, I moved her out front so that I can share her bloom with my neighbors. And each passing day, I grew more and more eager to see the vibrant colors she had to offer.
After I moved her, she kept getting knocked down, so I placed a few stones to keep her from falling over, but the winds were too strong (that, or my setup game is just weak).
Anyone whose grown sunflowers would know that they are heavy drinkers and deeply rooted. Thus, my new routine of going out front just to keep her from being sad was my new normal. And for the past week, I noticed that I’ve been spending a lot more of my time and love on her (might be the simp in me or the fact that I can trace her sow to a purpose is the reason why I’m taking extra care of her).
And if you know anything about me, you’d know that I think a lot, and I try to find the answers and reasons and purpose to better understand things and situations (fun fact, my teachers throughout grade school would constantly complain to my parents that I “overanalyze”).
So, being me, I needed to know why I cared so much about this sunflower, and if I can pull at all the stars in the sky, it’s probably because it provided me that sense of security and hope. It was a reflection of my desire to care and share with others the wonders and joys of life and hope and happiness.
My sunflower needed me, but I needed her more.
