Three days after Valentines the previously solely green foliage of Tom’s gift of flowers burst into 7 beautiful daffodil blooms. With their leaves reaching upward they were a symbol of joy and delight. Every time I looked at them, I smiled. I love life and living things. A couple of days later, after a particularly gray day I came home to find one daffodil almost completely horizontal reaching exhaustingly for the window. I was immediately apologetic to the poor thing, and Tom and I moved the table next to the window and placed the pot centered in front of the pane. The next day, I was relieved to see the move had encourage the gentle flower and he had aligned himself, but all 7 daffodils had muddled together facing outdoors as if supporting one another until the sun came out again. I often feel like those daffodils, deprived of sunlight and natural warmth. I like to think I don’t react as dramatically when I go without, but I think Tom would divulge that I, like the daffodils, stretch beggingly, bend depressingly, and wait anxiously for the sun.

(P.S. the above picture is one I took of the daffodils mentioned!)