Beauty in Hand

Tulips are up. Pink, purple, white, and any other color big one threw in the cart last fall as we snatched up clearance bulbs.

 Before I could gather them for a vase, they were found...

snatched by hands eager to hold beauty.

In those tulips, I saw two worlds:

My mom's as she watched her toil in the garden snapped up by my small fingers or crushed under careless feet. Beheaded plants, some with bulbs exposed, bedraggled garden.

Myself, as a little girl, confused at mommy's dismay. Smelling and seeing from the border were well enough, but I wanted to be in the garden, sitting in the middle of all those colors, holding flowers in my hands. Tasting beauty.

Small one embraces her tulip, pressing it to her chest. Petals fall to the ground as she releases. She's all smiles.

The flowers would last longer in a vase. But they would never have been enjoyed like they were crushed in tiny fingers. I'm all smiles, as I let go the garden and embrace their joy.