Once upon a time, a little girl found a seed.
She wasn’t looking for a seed,
but she found one anyway.
She held it in the palm of her hand
and wondered and wondered.
She planted it in rich, black soil.
For weeks she watered the soil,
gave it sunlight,
and even sang to it.
It sprouted and grew into a beautiful flower,
with petals of colors man
hadn’t even invented names for yet.
The girl loved the flower,
and the flower loved her back.
They were happy.
But between smiles and blooms,
the girl and the flower knew
that this could not possibly last forever.
“Flower, I know no matter how much I care for you,
some day you will die.”
The flower nodded and when he did,
some of his brilliant petals fell to the soil.
The girl gently pocketed them to keep.
As time went on, the flower began to wilt;
his colors faded;
his roots shriveled with the rest of him;
but the girl still continued to care for him.
When the day came, there was not a speck of color
left in his stem and petals,
and the girl knew he had gone.
She ran her fingers over his soil
only to discover a pile of seeds
that had fallen from his dying center.
She collected them, tilled a patch of land
outside of her window
and planted each of them
with the same love and care as before.
They bloomed bright with petals of colors
man hadn’t even invented names for yet.
The girl loved her flowers
and was happy to share their beauty
with the world passing by.
This, she believed,
was how her flower knew it was to be
all along.