A little over a week ago, I was thrilled to discover a lonely sunflower growing on the compost pile, cheerfully defying both its unpalatable origin and the impending chill. Unlike its garden peers, who were already shriveled and brown, this plucky little flower turned its unwaveringly sunny gaze up to the ominous gray sky. “What a metaphor!” I thought. “What resilience despite the odds! What a hopeful message for all of humanity!”
Then Paul knocked it over.
It was an accident, of course–he was just trying to clear space for an incoming load of fallen maple leaves–but I couldn’t help mourning the literal fall of my hopeful metaphor.
I mourned too soon. I just went to the compost pile this morning and was greeted by the undaunted gaze of the sunflower, mostly buried in leaves but still resolutely blooming.
There’s hope for us all, after all.