A few roots begin to sprout out from a few dead stems of flowers, leftovers from a Valentine’s Day bouquet, given before our world began to unravel. The daisies were the last flowers to die, and in the midst of hospital visits and sleepless nights, they were left in stagnant water for a few weeks after the bouquet was gone by. One uneventful day, I finally went to go throw the dead stems out, only to find that the stems were beginning to grow roots. I left them there in hopes that they might continue to grow, and I might turn into a green thumb this year.
Slowly, a green leaf appeared on one of the stems. A new stem, growing from an old one. What appeared to be hopelessly dead, now showed slight signs of life again. I planted the roots and stem, and have been watering them, watching the new shoots grow daily in the sun of the beginning of dry season.
A renewal. A re-birth. What appeared to be dead and hopeless, now has new life.
A Valentine’s Day bouquet, the good that happened before the hospital. On the evening of Valentine’s Day, my Mother-In-Law had a hemorrhagic stroke. It happened in the ER of a hospital, so she had prompt care, but she lost all movement, feeling, vision, and hearing on the left side of her body. She spent a few weeks in the hospital, a few long weeks for us, endless for her. Her recovery has been slow, but in a situation that appeared to be hopeless, we now have hope.
My mother-in-law has been steadily regaining movement, now she is able to walk with help, and even take a few wobbly steps unaided. She has learned how to use her right hand to do simple tasks, she was left-handed before the stroke. Renewal. Re-birth. Hope from a hopeless situation.
The daisies are constant reminder of the renewal of life from Valentine’s Day to the present, a reminder to never give up hope, to keep believing that new life will grow out of what seems to be dead.
