The blood lily my writing parter gave me has resurrected once again. First as a tiny little green nubbin, but now it’s a firework stretching for the window. Each year I wonder if it’ll come back, and each year it comes through like an utter allium boss.
It gives me hope, especially since I feel like I’m clawing up out of ashes lately myself. Makes me wonder if it hurts plants to grow, even if that growth happens in the sleeping dark. Gods know most of my own growth is painful–but then again, would I notice it, if it wasn’t?
It’s been a difficult week. Not as bad as some others lately, but still… difficult. I just keep breathing and moving, hopefully forward. Eventually endurance pays off–I know this, and yet each time I doubt.
May we all rise, may we all find some peace, and may we get to where we’re going even through the doubt.
Have a lovely weekend, chickadees.