I’d like to take this time to discuss a topic of the utmost importance.
And yes, I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about flowers lately. Their colors, their shapes, the way they make you feel and why… My favorite flower, although you’d think is a daisy, is actually a sunflower.
When I see sunflowers I smile and jump and say, “Look! A sunflower!” Every. Single. Time. As if they had never graced the earth with their presence before.
But mostly I’ve been thinking about how flowers are most beautiful right before they die. I think about how their roots are so firmly grasped to the ground, and even though we know the soil is their life supply, we pick them without a second thought.
It seems like flowers spend their whole lives growing to be these beautiful plants that give people such pleasure, and then they just die.
I’m a happy person, but I admit I have some cynicism in my heart.
So while flowers are beautiful and I truly enjoy looking at them, at the end of the day, I never ask for flowers and I would rather not receive them because I can’t escape the truth: They die.
The other night I was watching The Killing on Netflix. A politician’s assistant tells him to send flowers to a family whose daughter was killed. He immediately replied, “No. Flowers die.”
In the moment I thought, ‘Wow. This guy really gets me.’ Because you have to admit there’s some logic to it! Why do people give people little organisms that are days from death?
It’s like when the fair gives kids free goldfish. The kid is so happy at that moment, but it’s all taken away in a week when the fish is being flushed down the toilet. Now maybe that’s a tad more dramatic, but it all just sounds like a bad omen to me.
Since that episode though, I’ve replayed the scene in my head over and over, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Maybe it takes being face-to-face with your own mindset to realize there’s a crack in its foundation.
Something about my flower mentality doesn’t feel right anymore, and all the sudden I see there’s a sort of poetic beauty to a flower dying after being picked.
Flowers spend their lives blooming to beauty, and while I’m sure they serve a multitude of purposes, they all have one absolute mission or endgame: to make people happy. Once they serve that mission, their journey is over and there’s nothing more for them.
I like to think flowers are on this earth to serve others, and I like to think that maybe, just maybe, humans’ journeys aren’t so different from the flowers after all.
I like that idea of flowers better.