I bought some flowers yesterday. Red and yellow in a vase, arranged in a springtime bouquet from the grocery, they brighten up the dining room.
I used to love to have flowers in the house.
These are the first ones I've purchased since the memorial bouquets that filled every room faded and drooped in September.
When I went out back yesterday afternoon, I looked at the garden beds and felt the smallest stirring of longing. Last fall I had thought, in a vague sort of way, about planting new bulbs, but with getting out of bed being something of a problem, going to a garden center was out of the question. Now, looking at the few scraggly daffodil shoots struggling through the hard ground, I wish that I had been able to do it.
That's something, I thought to myself. Flowers in the dining room and a wish for color and life outside. That's a small beginning.