I am a magnolia, reflecting the proud, the strong,
the lovely South, all the way down to my Southern Belle
roots, planted firmly in Baptist grit and Mississippi
mud. In the spring I cover myself
in buds that bloom into creamy white
flowers between leaves, glossy green
on top; velvety underneath. Wanted for my beauty,
many attempt to touch me, and when they do,
they bruise my delicate petals
for I have no defense
but to curl up, turn brown and ugly,
then wither away.
Sometimes you have to make your own miracle.
Today is my birthday, but I woke up crying because I lost 2 sweet friends yesterday. Timmy died in a wreck a mile from my house. He was in my class, from 2nd to 11th grade. I even called him my boyfriend in 4th grade. I'd lost contact with him since school days (decades ago) until I saw him at visitation for Bruce, my former brother-in-law, who had suddenly died. Bruce was also in our class (our school was small, one homeroom per grade). Timmy and his wife had recently moved back here. He and Bruce were only 55 when they passed away. Neil is my sister's brother in law who was a grade ahead of me. He was special. He lived with his brother, who watched out for him. He had an innocent, giving nature. Neil died in his sleep, not a bad way to go, but he was too young, only 56. So here I was crying. Then I thought, isn't it selfish to cry? Am I crying for me? They are free spirits now. Wanting to keep them on earth is selfish. So, I got up and made coffee, and thought, the best thing to do in their memory is to LIVE.
These little bluebirds had left the nest their mom had built in my yellow bird house.
Here is an old, brown bloom that will soon fall off the stem; and here are many more buds ready to open. Unseen, are many more flowers that only exist in dreams and imaginings for now,
|The bloom I cut is on the right.|