Thursday, January 22, 2009

FLOWER STORY I (Repost from Friendster)

I love the sight of flowers. I love drawing flowers. I love taking pictures of flowers. I love picking flowers, especially the small ones and make cute little bouquets out of them. There is something about flowers that leaves me just happy. I appreciate different kinds of flowers, but of course there are those which stand out in my list. Too bad however, my favorites cannot be seen all year long. At the start of a certain season, they appear to give you such a wonderful sight, but when the season ends, they also die out with time. Conditions are no longer favorable for them, so they disappear. And the cycle goes on. You don’t get to see the wonder all the time. But every time the plant turns on a new leaf, there is always an excitement, an anticipation to see the budding flower come to life. And so I figured, the same goes with human beings. When conditions are no longer conducive, something dies in us. We may die and live again or die forever. This is where the difference comes in: we have a choice, unlike the flowers which are chiefly dependent on the world that surrounds them.

After birth, then comes growth. I know I grew up because I am way above the sink when I brush my teeth. I know I grew up because my butt no longer shoots into the toilet bowl when I get to pee. But growing up is beyond these manifestations. I journeyed through life always looking up, just like the sunflowers along University Avenue.

As the sun was up, so were their faces. As I aged, I absorbed so many information and gained experiences that I thought would qualify me as a grown-up. But then, somewhere along the way, some things died in me. I grew up indeed but had to let go of some things, to be replaced by better ones, I hope.

Rainy season seemed to start early this year. And with the rain coming, the sunflowers slowly hid their faces, bowing down as if saying goodbye. The same goes for me. But I guess there is nothing to worry about. For after sometime, a better season will arrive, for me and the flowers to live again.

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