Sunflower

Underneath the electric blue sky grows a lonely, yellow sunflower basking in the sunshine, its face turned towards the glowing orb as it soaks in the heat, swaying lightly in the open field. The breeze is warm and so is my heart. I’m looking at the poor soul from the other side of the plain, a pair of old binoculars in hand. They were George’s before he left us and now I have taken it into my possession. I thought it would be interesting to see the world through his eyes since he carried it around with him whenever he went into the woods to spy on the animals, so I said to myself one fine day, why not? But you’re ain’t an animal, are you? You’re a pretty little thing, little one.

Today is September 11th, the day of his passing and im standing looking at this sunflower that’s growing all by itself out in the middle of nowhere. I try to imagine how it must feel. Sad, half bored to death, alone...

But in all that loneliness, there is strength that often goes unnoticed by those who stop by, only to pity it and then move on with their lives as if nothing ever happened. That or they pick it to put in their hair or something. Horrible people, really. But it escapes. I wonder if fortune really is a thing. If it is, this little flower’s got it tucked right up under its prickly little arm. It even outstands the storm that came last week. Worst storm of the year, they said. But despite all of that, it stands. It stands right up in the face of that ugly storm and says, “Bring it on, I’m ready.” That and fortune never let nobody get their hands on it.

That little flower doesn’t fade away. It shines. Outshines the rest. Until all that’s left of the scene is the sunflower’s silent beauty. It sways gently in the warm breeze, as if waving its little arms and going: “Look guys, I made it!”